


Cast me away

by Winterblume



Category: Arthurian Mythology, Merlin (TV)
Genre: Action, Action/Adventure, Adventure, Angst, Arthur Finds Out About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Bromance, Canon Relationships, Gen, Hurt Merlin (Merlin), Leon is reliable, Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin) Friendship - Freeform, Morgana is an evil witch, Powerful Merlin (Merlin), Saxons will come for you, arthur does not take it well, gwaine is a good friend
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 07:21:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28578162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winterblume/pseuds/Winterblume
Summary: The dagger’s edge bit into his skin and Merlin felt a single drop of blood running down his neck. His thoughts swirled and tumbled into a mess. Arthur cruelly had him pinned against the stone wall and pressed a knife at this throat. “You are an abomination.”Magic is darkness. Magic is evil. King Arthur cannot allow it take root in Camelot. Now magic has taken his best friend and twisted him. Merlin is a sorcerer and Arthur has never felt such betrayal. Not even destiny can stop a king’s wrath.
Comments: 29
Kudos: 178





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hello dear readers, hope you're doing all right during these crazy times. My country is in a lock down at the moment, so I found myself with some time at hand ;) and wanted to write a bit non sciency stuff.
> 
> So, a Merlin fic, I thought. Why not? Be warned, though, I haven't watched the show in some time and have a lousy memory in general. So... there ya go. I'd place this in the fourth or fifth season. Not quite sure. Just go with the flow. The story centres around Merlin's and Arthur's relationship (non romantic, though). We'll have lots of other characters as well. Gwaine, Morgana, Leon, Gwen. No Mordred, though. Didn't like him all that much in the show.
> 
> Also, this fic will have descriptions of violence. It's the middle ages with sword fights and what not. Don't blame me.
> 
> Anyway, here's the prologue. You're of course very welcome to comment, give Kudos, or PM me. Without further ado, have fun!

"Come on," Merlin said, grin on his face. "Up you go."

Arthur gave nothing more than an unintelligible grunt and Merlin chuckled as he ripped open the curtains, letting in bright sunlight.

"Merlin," Arthur grumbled and pulled the blanket over his face. "Go 'way."

"No," Merlin decided amusedly and pulled the blanket away from his friend. "You're already late as it is."

Clear blue eyes glared up at him and Arthur groused, "And who's fault is that?"

An innocent look painted on his face, Merlin shrugged his shoulders. Arthur's glare darkened and Merlin couldn't help it as his lips curved into a grin. As Arthur still made no move to finally get up from his four-poster bed, Merlin simply grabbed him by the wrist. Without warning, he pulled at the king and Arthur yelped as he tumbled into an undignified pile on the stone floor beside his bed.

"Mer-lin!" Arthur growled, furiously trying to untangle himself from the bedding. "I swear to God…"

Merlin had by now lost interest in the grumpy king and instead rummaged through his wardrobe. He pulled a white linen shirt from a stack and eyed it critically. Then he added smallclothes and dark breeches before he grabbed Arthur's red doublet delicately decorated with fine gold threads at the hems. That would probably do, Merlin decided and carefully draped everything over the folding screen at one corner of Arthur's bedroom. He turned around to the king and furrowed his brow. By now Arthur had at least managed to get up and rubbed a hand through his golden hair.

"What are you doing?" Merlin nagged. "Hurry up. Come on."

Annoyed frown on his face, Arthur grabbed one of his pillows and unceremoniously threw it at Merlin. Merlin, having seen that one coming a mile away, simply caught the pillow and flashed Arthur a wide grin. The king rolled his eyes at his servant and finally stepped behind the dressing screen.

"If I wasn't so tired," Arthur's muffled voice came from behind the screen. "I'd put you in the stocks for this."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "I'm sure you would, Sire."

Carefully, he arranged the king's breakfast on the table, a few slices of tender venison, cheese, white bread, and an assortment of fruits. Finally, Arthur emerged and, as Merlin noted, looked at least half-way presentable in his clothes. He munched on a stolen piece of apple as he mused that he'd have to get the king's red cape before they went to the council meeting. And the crown. Never forget the crown. Arthur sat down at the table and Merlin poured him some water.

"Are you prepared for the council meeting?" Merlin chatted away while Arthur ate.

"Sure," Arthur mumbled around a piece of bread. "The whole affair might bore me right back into sleep. I can only hope."

The warlock grinned at that. He gave Arthur a deep mock bow and quipped, "Don't worry, Your Highness. If that happens, I'll just chuck a pitcher of water at you."

The king threw him a stern look, though he was belied by the mirth dancing in his eyes. Arthur shrugged and sassed, "Well, if anything, that would at least stop the boredom."

"For sure," Merlin chuckled.

.+.

Arthur strode towards the council chamber while trying to ban the displeasure from his face. He must not have been that successful, because the servants he came upon quickly bustled out of his way after hasty curtsies and bows. Arthur crinkled his nose. He'd much rather jump on his trusted charger and ride out for a hunting trip. But, no, he had to sit around with a bunch of dusty noblemen. Barely, he managed to keep a sigh from falling from his lips.

"Really," Merlin told him dryly. "It's not that bad."

The manservant walked beside Arthur and threw him a chiding look. Idly, Arthur wondered if Merlin was aware that his insolent behaviour towards a king would've normally got him a flogging …if nothing worse. Just daring to walk right beside the king, instead of three steps behind, would be reason enough to throw him in the dungeons for a week. Merlin might know that, but had simply decided not to care. Arthur rolled his eyes. Who was he kidding? Merlin definitely knew. Tiredly, the royal pinched the bridge of his nose while the servant continued to shuffle on right beside him.

"The councilmen will drone on _forever_ ," Arthur complained and he did not sound whiney. Not at all.

Merlin threw him a grin. "Maybe you should've thought about that before you decided to be king."

"Who else would do it?" the king threw his servant a dry look. "Hm? You?"

Now Merlin pursed his lips in consideration. After a moment, he drawled right back, "Now, King Merlin. Does have a nice ring to it, no?"

Arthur threw him an unimpressed look before he cuffed him over the back of his head.

"Oi," Merlin complained, dancing a step away. "What was that for?"

"Yeah," another voice piped in. "What're you doing with our favourite little servant, there?"

Arthur suppressed a tired groan and, sure enough, just a few steps ahead, he found Sir Gwaine casually leaned against the corridor wall. An easy grin hung from Gwaine's lips as he gave the king an over-exaggerated bow. Arthur rolled his eyes. He would never question why Gwaine and Merlin were such good friends. At least Leon was there as well. The knight greeted the king with a swift bow,

"My lord."

Finally, someone who showed the proper decorum. Gwaine remained immune to Leon's good example. He threw the king a cheeky grin, stepped over to Merlin and slung an arm around the other man's shoulders. Smirk still in place, the knight asked,

"Did the big bad king bully you?"

Of course, Merlin painted a decidedly innocent look on his face. Jutting out his lower lip, the servant complained,

"He always does."

"Don't be such a girl's blouse," Arthur told him dryly.

The servant gasped and theatrically grabbed his chest, as if mortally offended. Gwaine laughed and Arthur was pretty sure at his expense. Even Leon chuckled softly. The king rolled his eyes. He really should chuck the lot of them into the dungeons. See if they liked that. Instead, Arthur turned to Leon and inquired,

"Did you talk with Percival?"

"Yes, Sire," Leon replied. "He'll take over training for today. I told him to have the recruits practice with the crossbow."

Leon, always concise and dependable. Typical military man, Arthur decided. At least one knight that wasn't an unruly ruffian. The king threw Gwaine a suspicious look, but the knight pointedly ignored that. Arthur gave up and simply continued his way to the council chambers. At least the other men followed, though still joking around. They had almost reached the entrance as Merlin once again stepped closer to Arthur.

"Here," the servant said and stuffed a roll of parchment into Arthur's hand.

The king frowned at him and Merlin grinned. "I wrote down the agenda of today's meeting. God knows, it's probably all slipped out of your head again."

Arthur looked down at the parchment in his hand and a small smile curled his lips. Sure, Merlin was a little pest, lazy and clumsy, but sometimes he had his lucid moments. Swiftly, he studied Merlin's handwriting. The servant had copied down all the important points. Very concise, although Arthur had only told Merlin about this in passing. There had been so much going on lately, he'd actually forgotten about half of it. Merlin hadn't, though, but had copied it down for Arthur.

"Thanks," the royal said softly and rolled the parchment up again.

Merlin just shrugged and waved a dismissive hand as if it were nothing. Finally, the king entered the council chambers. Instantly, a hushed silence fell over the assembled councilmen and all of them bowed deep to their liege lord. Arthur's heels clacked loudly on the stone floor as he strode over to his high-backed chair at the head to the long table. This time, Merlin had fallen back and kept three steps behind Arthur. His right-hand side felt empty without the servant.

Arthur sat down on the chair, cape falling regally around his shoulders. The councilmen once again bowed to him before they as well took their seats. Arthur had to stop himself to fidget on his chair. Did that really have to be so uncomfortable? he wondered, slightly annoyed. He couldn't see him, but Arthur knew that Merlin had assumed his place standing behind the king's chair, head bowed and a pitcher of water in his hand. Carefully, Arthur unrolled the parchment in front of him on the table. He'd rather die before he admitted it out loud but it was incredibly reassuring to know Merlin was close. His index finger lying on the first entry of Merlin's list, Arthur let his gaze wander over the nobles and convened,

"Thank you for attending this council meeting. I suggest we start right away." His gaze wandered to one of the lords who wore a garishly green coat. "Lord Baudwin, what news do you bring of the tax collection process? I hear some of the hamlets up north struggled this winter. Do they need respite?"

Baudwin stood up and gave Arthur a bow, twirling his hand in an overdone manner, while a self-important look hung from the old man's features. Arthur had to struggle to keep his sigh in. He swore, though, that he heard a soft snort coming from Merlin.

"Your Highness," Baudwin started pompously, one hand twirling his moustache. "I assure you, I work _tirelessly_ to ensure the royal treasury will receive the coin that it is due. Why, I myself sent, like I always do, none but my _best_ , most trusted men to travel to every village and hamlet to collect Your Majesty's taxes. Let me assure you, Sire, that I personally and very _diligently_ oversee all of the steps of the tax collecting process. If there would ever be a village, however small, that struggles under the taxes which, by all rights, are Your Highness' God given right, then I would be _well informed_ and I would not hesitate to-"

Baudwin droned on and on about what had been a simple 'yes' or 'no' question. _Dear God_ , Arthur groaned inwardly while he kept all emotion but polite interest from showing on his face. If Baudwin continued like that, Merlin would have to throw that pitcher at Arthur after all, because he already felt drowsy.

.

Arthur had been right. Not that Merlin would ever tell the prat, though. The warlock suppressed a yawn. But, yes, this was indeed horribly boring. With blurry eyes, he watched Lord Cador and Sir Degore squabble on. The two men glowered darkly and seemed to have forgotten the presence of their king. Instead, they were busy yelling at each other. A screaming match would normally have managed to jostle Merlin from his drowsy state, but it was well known that Lord Cador and Sir Degore hated each other. Truly, it wasn't a real council meeting without those two trying to murder each other.

"I need more men," Lord Cador decided sharply. "It is as simple as that."

Sir Degore, face purple with anger, glared at the man. "And where do you suggest we take the additional soldiers from? Hm? They're not growing on the trees, do they?"

 _Wonder when harvest season would be_ , Merlin deadpanned. He must've whispered something along those lines out loud, because he could see the hint of a smile on Arthur's lips. Meanwhile, Lord Cador threw up his arms in frustration and snapped,

"So, what's your solution? Let that Saxon scum just wander about and raid my villages?"

Sir Degore drowned the other man in a vitriolic look and irritably crossed his arms in front of his chest. Like speaking to someone he deemed dim-witted, the knight slowly explained, "No, but need I remind you that _you_ are the Lord of your lands? Thus, it is _your_ responsibility to provide your people with protection. The crown is not obliged to jump to your rescue when you can't do your job."

"Preposterous!" Cador exclaimed, anger twisting his face. "I will not stand being insulted by you, sir."

Merlin watched as the lord now tugged at his glove, probably intending to throw it at Degore. Well, the servant mused, it wouldn't be the first council meeting that ended with a duel.

"Please," Arthur now spoke up, annoyed frown between his eyebrows. "Calm yourselves."

Both men turned to the king, although it didn't do anything about that belligerent glint in their eyes. There was a calm expression on the king's face. By the slight twitch at the corner of his left eye, though, Merlin could tell that Arthur was quite vexed. The royal still managed to keep all anger from his controlled voice as he said,

"It _is_ indeed a lord's duty to protect his fiefdom and his people." Here Sir Degore threw a snide look at Lord Cador. Arthur ignored that and continued, "At this point Saxon pillagers might be an isolated problem, but we cannot risk it getting out of hand. So, in this case, the crown will make an exception and provide help."

The king turned to the commander of his army and arched an eyebrow questioningly. "Sir Leon, how many men can we spare?"

Leon narrowed his eyes in thought. It took him only a moment, before he replied briskly, "At the most, I could provide a section each of foot soldiers and archers, Sire. Fifteen men in total."

Arthur nodded and decided, "Very well. See to it that it's done. And Lord Cador, you will provide Sir Leon with all the information he needs for this operation."

The lord in question bowed and quickly pledged gratefully, "I will do so, Sire. Thank you for your help. It is much appreciated."

"Sir Degore spoke true," Arthur replied, warningly tinge to his voice. "Do not expect the crown to jump to your help every time you call, Lord Cador. Your fiefdom is still yours to protect."

Lord Cador bowed, mumbling promises to do just that, while still happy with the development. Sir Degore at least seemed to be mollified by Arthur's words as well. A small smile hung from Merlin's lips as he observed the proceedings. As much as Arthur could be a colossal prat, he _had_ grown into the role of king nicely and the warlock couldn't help but feel proud of his friend.

.+.


	2. Angles and Saxons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear readers. Here's the next chapter. I hope you enjoy :)

“Can’t you take Percival?” Merlin grouched while he fastened Arthur’s bedroll to the saddle. “Or Elyan. They _like_ hunting.”

Arthur rolled his eyes and slipped his leader gloves on. Condescendingly, he informed his unruly manservant, “Maybe it escaped your notice but _Sirs_ Percival and Elyan are knights of Camelot. They have their duties to perform. In fact, Percival is busy training the new recruits as we speak.”

Merlin was decidedly unimpressed and mumbled into his non-existent beard, “ _Sure_ they have duties… unlike the _king_. Apparently.”

“Oh, come on,” Arthur said and grabbed the reins. “Day’s nice. The sun is shining. It’s going to be a breeze.”

“Right,” Merlin poured sarcasm into his ears. “Because our outings _never_ go awry.”

Arthur gingerly rubbed over the spot right behind his destrier’s ear. The horse leaned into his touch and huffed contently. Arthur grinned. Pomers turned out to be quite the fine horse. Still a bit untrained and lacked Llamrei’s reliability, but the royal was sure they’d get there. He reached for the saddle’s pommel and swiftly mounted the horse. Meanwhile, Merlin, still grumbling, pulled himself clumsily on one of Arthur’s palfreys. Truly, so much grace accumulated in one person, the king thought dryly.

Arthur directed his destrier towards the east gate. Soon cobblestones turned to dirt roads and not much later, the spicy and humid air of the forest surrounded them. Arthur took in a deep breath and, unbidden, a smile curved his mouth. He was the king and by rights it shouldn’t feel this liberating to leave his castle behind, should it? Still, riding through the forest, Arthur felt as if a huge weight was lifted from his shoulders and his heart skipped a few excited beats.

“It’s winter.” Merlin’s voice cut through his bliss as he pouted, “What can you even hunt in _winter_?”

Arthur rolled his eyes and didn’t hesitated to lecture his silly servant haughtily, “Of course, _you_ wouldn’t know. But pheasant, partridge, and hare don’t disappear into nothing just because it’s a little bit colder. Winter hasn’t even started yet. It’s still fall.”

He didn’t turn around but could almost feel Merlin’s gaze cutting into the back of his head. A smirk crawled on Arthur’s face. Sure enough, the servant’s reply was sharp,

“You know, _my Lord_. Sometimes I find myself wishing _you_ would just disappear into nothing.”

The royal turned in his saddle and threw Merlin his most patronising look and reminded him sweetly, “Disappearing your king? You’re talking treason, Merlin.”

The servant sent him a decidedly unimpressed look. Black hair mussed up by the cold winter wind, Merlin wrapped his cloak tighter around himself… or rather Arthur’s old, frayed cloak. The blond smirked at the man and didn’t hesitate to inform,

“You’re lucky to have such a nice and forgiving master.”

Merlin snorted disparagingly and readjusted the strap of Arthur’s crossbow that he’d slung over his shoulder.

“Really?” the servant sasses. “Forgiving? I distinctly remember that one time I forgot to put sweetmeat on your breakfast plate for your birthday. You’ve been sulking about that for weeks.”

Arthur turned around on his horse again so Merlin wouldn’t see that rather guilty grin curving his lips. Putting the appropriate amount of condescension in his tone, Arthur drawled,

“You know, it’s talk like that that gets you into the stocks so often. Makes me wonder if you’ll ever _learn_.”

.+.

Merlin was cold, wet, and his feet hurt. Why Arthur had to hunt after that partridge _on foot_ Merlin would never know. He rubbed at his runny nose and followed the king down a little deer crossing. Arthur silently crept along, crossbow at the ready, and his steps were soft on the forest floor, leaving almost no sign. Merlin miserably trudged behind him and, _damn_ , there must be a hole in the sole of his right boot. His sock was soaked through. Merlin pulled a face and threw a dark look at Arthur for good measure. Of course, the blond didn’t notice, too preoccupied with trying to shoot innocent little animals. And really, Merlin should jus-

A jolt went right through his magic, leaving it agitated and tense. Merlin stopped, senses instantly thrown into high alert. Something was wrong.

“Arthur,” he hissed under his breath, eyes darting about.

Of course, the stupid clotpole wouldn’t listen. Arthur didn’t turn but chose to ignore Merlin. The warlock jogged up to the man and grabbed his shoulder.

“Arthur!”

A few metres ahead, a partridge fluttered away. The king whirled around to him, anger all over his face. At least the crossbow was lowered as Arthur growled,

“Damn it, Merlin! _What_ is wrong with you?!”

Merlin’s eyes slid over their surroundings. He couldn’t _see_ anything. Yet, his magic coiled inside him nervously, ready for action. The force bristled through him and already prickled over his skin.

“You oaf,” Arthur snapped at him irately. “What? Scared of your own shadow again?”

Merlin’s eyes flew back to his friend. Arthur narrowed his clear blue eyes at him, thoroughly annoyed by now. Hastily, Merlin shook his head and whispered under his breath,

“Something’s wrong.”

The king rolled his eyes. He grumbled, dark look on his features, and threw the crossbow over his shoulder.

“This is ridiculous. You know what? Next time I _will_ take Percival along. In the meantime, you can polish _all_ the knights’ armour. See if you like that.”

Merlin barely listened to Arthur’s nagging. His eyes darted about, seeking out the danger that his magic screamed at him about. The warlock grabbed the king’s wrist and tugged insistently.

“We need to leave. Come.”

“Here we are again,” Arthur huffed indignantly. “How many times do I have to say it? _I_ am the king. _You_ are the servant. You can’t order me around.”

Merlin pulled at a resisting king while his magic urged him to hurry. Under his breath, he whispered, “Come _on_. You can continue whining when we’re back in Camelot.”

“I do not whin-“

There was a hissing sound. Instinctively, Merlin grabbed Arthur and wrenched at him. The king released an undignified squeak as he was pulled against Merlin. With a sharp twang, an arrow hit the tree trunk right where Arthur’s head had been a second earlier. Arthur’s eyes widened as he turned and saw the arrow. His face rapidly lost all colour and he whispered,

“Shit.”

To his credit, it didn’t take Arthur long to recover. He grabbed Merlin by the arm and pulled him behind the tree, seeking cover. They both ducked as they heard more arrows hit the tree’s bark. Nice, an ambush. Merlin pulled a face and couldn’t help but tell Arthur wryly,

“I don’t think that’s my shadow, Sire.”

“Shut it!” the king growled and already pulled his sword.

Merlin indulged him, but only because now a couple of men broke through the underbrush. The warlock spied thick leather armour, battle-axes, and fur coats.

“Saxons,” Arthur hissed.

Still huddling behind the tree’s trunk, Merlin’s gaze jumped over the approaching men. He counted four. All with murderous looks on their faces and sharp blades in their hands. Merlin’s magic tugged at him, begging to be released. He knew he could take them. The only problem would be doing so _undetected_ … The warlock’s eyes slid to Arthur. The king had his back pressed against the tree and his sword in his hand. His face was set into a determined frown as he assessed the attackers. If Merlin managed to knock Arthur out, that’d leave him time to take care of the Saxons, and-

“Stay here,” Arthur ordered sharply.

Before Merlin could react, the blond had abandoned their cover. The warlock cursed under his breath as Arthur charged at the Saxon closest. His magic bucked violently, wanting to help. Sword at the ready, Arthur attacked. The Saxon was prepared. He instantly slid his battle-axe through the air in a wide arc, seeking to split Arthur’s head. The king deftly sidestepped, so that the axe’s blade hissed by him. Arthur’s counterattack was swift. In a fluid movement, the blond jabbed his sword forward. The thrust was deadly in its precision. It slid right between the Saxon’s breastplate and shoulder guard where there was a sliver of unprotected space. Few swordsmen would be good enough to hit such a small target. Arthur’s aim was true and his sword sunk deep into the man’s chest. The Saxon’s eyes widened, not having seen the attack coming, and blood spurted over the leather armour. The man coughed, blood bubbling from his lips, before he crashed to the floor.

Arthur pulled his sword free and instantly fell back into his battle stance as the next Saxon rushed him. This one held a round shield in one hand and a long seax in his other. The man swung his sword at Arthur. The royal parried, metal scraping over metal, and forcefully pushed back. The Saxon had to take a step back and Arthur instantly struck at him. Now hard blows rained down on the Saxon’s shield and he had to retreat another step under Arthur’s onslaught.

Merlin, still crouched behind the tree, could no longer watch Arthur fighting. Another of the Saxon men snuck up on the king from behind. Merlin’s heart skipped a panicked beat. Crouched low, the Saxon held a sharp dagger in his hand and a murderous glint in his eyes. He’d ram that dagger’s blade right into Arthur’s back. Fear curled, cold as ice, around Merlin. He raised his arm and his magic rushed towards his hand. The Saxon raised his dagger to throw it at Arthur and Merlin’s eyes flashed gold as he hissed,

“ástríc hine, stânclûd.”

(Strike him, stone.)

Merlin’s magic coiled around a rather large rock and violently hurled it at the man. The stone impacted hard with the Saxon’s head. There was no blood, but the man instantly fell to the floor like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Nausea twisted Merlin’s stomach as he looked at the Saxon’s still body.

Arthur was still engaged in his duel with the other Saxon. His sword flashed through the air gracefully and Merlin knew it was only a matter of time that the king would be victorious. That left the fourth of their attackers to Merlin. Battle-axe in hand, the last Saxon stood just a couple of meters away. Merlin startled, a spike of panic hitting him. The man stared right at him. A long, scruffy beard obscured the Saxon’s rough features, but his eyes burned with a lethal glint as they pierced into the warlock. Clearly, the Saxon had seen Merlin use the spell. He’d seen the magic! Fear brutally slammed into Merlin. There wasn’t long to dwell on his panic, though.

A furious snarl erupted on the Saxon’s face. He raised his axe and charged Merlin. _Shit!_ The warlock stumbled a step back. The Saxon was upon him in an instant and the sharp blade of an axe cut through the air. Merlin tried to dodge, lost his balance, and landed on his behind. The man swung his axe again to hack into the warlock. Merlin scrambled back, still on the ground, and only barely avoided the blade. The Saxon instantly raised his axe again. Mind clouded with fear, Merlin raised his hand to send a wave of magic at the man and hurl him away.

Before he could, suddenly, the tip of a sword appeared right through the Saxon’s chest. Blood was fiercely smeared all over the steel. The Saxon sucked in an agonized breath. The sword was pulled from him and the Saxon crashed to the ground, blood rapidly soaking into the forest floor. Merlin was still half sprawled over the ground, hand raised as if in futile defence, as he stared up at Arthur. The king held his sword in hand, blood trickling from the blade, and his eyes held a fierce look as he stared down at Merlin. His face was sweaty and speckled with blood.

“Merlin,” Arthur breathed.

The wild look quickly bled from his features and was replaced by worry. Hastily, the royal crouched down beside Merlin and grabbed his shoulder.

“Are you hurt?”

“Er…”

Merlin could barely think with his magic still boiling inside him and his heart hammering away in his chest. Concern swam in Arthur’s clear blue eyes as he looked Merlin over. Sounding a bit breathless, the king asked,

“Did you get hit?”

“Erm…” Merlin pulled his magic close, trying to calm himself. “N- no. I’m… I think, I’m alright.”

A whoosh of air left Arthur’s lips and he plopped down beside Merlin on the ground. A relieved smile ghosted over his features and he ruffled a hand through Merlin’s black hair.

“Fuck,” the blond cursed. “I need a break.”

The warlock arched an eyebrow at his friend. Arthur was still breathing heavily from the fight and now leaned back on his arms.

“You didn’t get struck either, right?” Merlin made sure.

Arthur tiredly let his head sag back and closed his eyes. The grin still curved his lips and he drawled, “Nah. I’m fine. ‘s not so easy to beat _me_.”

Merlin rolled his eyes at the arrogant reply. Still, a fond smile slid on his face and he shuffled a bit closer to Arthur. It didn’t stop him to needle back,

“I _told_ you not to go on this hunting trip. But did you listen? No. _Of course_ , not.”

“Ph.”

Arthur cracked an eye open and peered at Merlin. The smile on his face sharpened to a smirk and he replied, “What’s even your problem? You’ve been lazing around the whole time, cowering behind a tree, while I did the whole work.”

Merlin widened his eyes in faux deference and gushed, “I am but a humble servant, your most exalted Highness. Far was it from me to disrupt your magnificent sword fighting.”

He even added an exaggerated bow for good measure. Merlin didn’t quite manage to ban that teasing grin from his face, though, as he looked up at Arthur again. The king arched an unimpressed eyebrow at him and deadpanned,

“Sure. Humble, my ass.”

“My Lord!” Merlin gasped loudly. “Such language is unbecoming of your great lineage.”

Arthur pursed his lips, pensive look on his features, and mused, “I’m not quite sure whether I should put you in the stocks or make you muck out my horses for this.”

Merlin dropped the act and rolled his eyes. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and threw it at Arthur’s face.

“First you should clean up. You’re filthy.”

Arthur spluttered at that, but the warlock ignored him. He got up and rubbed a hand over his sore shoulder. His magic was still twisting and coiling inside him, but it already calmed down.

“Let’s go get the horses,” Merlin decided. “And then go home.”

Arthur was busy rubbing the dirt, sweat, and blood from his face, using Merlin’s handkerchief. Now he looked up at the servant and replied waspishly,

“Seriously? _I_ ’m the king, Merlin. I give the orders around here.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Merlin and offered the king a hand. “Now, come on. Time to leave.”

.+.

“At the very least it is cause for concern.”

Merlin schooled his features, but didn’t quite manage to keep the irritable scowl at bay. To hide it, he bent over the fireplace and carefully bundled up the tinder.

“We should double the patrols.”

A _seemingly_ good idea. Merlin glanced at Agravaine, suspicion whirling through him. The man sat at the table across from Arthur, both with a goblet of red wine in hand. There was a very concerned frown on Agravaine’s face as he scanned his nephew.

“Arthur,” the man said beseechingly. “Saxons never got so close to the city. We have to react to this affront.”

Gritting his teeth, Merlin hit the fire steel against the flint. A few sparks erupted and fell into the tinder. He heard Arthur sigh softly.

“Maybe you’re right, uncle,” the king said. “But we still need more intelligence on the Saxons’ movements and strength. Otherwise, we’re running into this with a blindfold on.”

“If we hesitate in our retaliation,” Agravaine remarked innocently. “The Saxons might interpret it as weakness and grow even bolder.”

The tinder caught fire and Merlin carefully pushed it under the piled-up wood. He chanced another glance at the two men. Troubled expression on his face, Arthur took a sip from his wine. Then he replied,

“So far, these attacks seem to be acts of isolated groups, ransacking and pillaging their only aim. If so, we could throw them back easily.” The king placed his goblet back on the table. “But if this is something more, if these attacks are more coordinated than they seem to appear, we _do_ need more information.”

Agravaine nodded his head. He threw Arthur a small smile and said, “You’re right. I think this attack on you has just shaken me. Let’s not rush into anything. The Saxons are not a threat on Camelot City yet. We have time. The outlying villages will just have to hold on for a while longer on their own.”

Agravaine’s words did not manage to reassure Arthur. Of course, they wouldn’t. An insecure look flittered over Arthur’s features. Guilt swimming in his clear blue eyes, the blond bent his head and fiddled with his goblet of wine. Merlin sharply bit on his tongue as Agravaine’s mask slipped for a second and he could see vile glee underneath. Merlin’s magic roiled vengefully and he wished he could throw it at the offending man. Like Agravaine’s, Merlin’s control slipped for a second. A strand of his enraged magic darted out and crashed into the stand with the fire pit tools. A wrought iron poker loudly clattered to the stone floor.

“Merlin!” Arthur threw a glare at his servant. “Can you for once not be clumsy?”

Merlin hastily scrambled to pick up the poker. At least it had rattled the royal from his dejected mood.

“Sorry, Sire.”

Agravaine barely hid the sneer on his face as he stared at Merlin. The warlock stood up and simply returned the look. He didn’t bother to hide his aversion either. Slightly, Agravaine’s eye narrowed and the corners of Merlin’s lips curved into a mocking smirk. Arthur, oblivious to the tense atmosphere, snubbed at Merlin,

“Really, you’re just hopeless.”

Merlin threw the king a sheepish grin and sassed, “I do what I can.”

Arthur huffed out an irritable breath. By now Agravaine had managed to hide the distasteful sneer behind a mask of honest concern and suggested gingerly,

“Sire, maybe we should continue this conversation _in private_.”

Merlin glared at the man, hands balling into fists. Arthur sagged back in his seat and took a sip from his wine, annoyed frown between his eyebrows.

“Probably for the best.”

Instantly, Merlin protested, “Arthur-“

“Dismissed.”

Arthur just waved a hand at him and now Merlin’s glowered at the king. The blond shrugged at him, picked a grape from the plate, and popped it into his mouth. Merlin narrowed his eyes at him and snapped, 

“Fine!”

Magic storming inside him, the warlock stomped from the king’s chambers. Agravaine’s gaze followed him, dancing with scorn.

.+.

“What a pompous _prick_.”

Fuming, Merlin slammed the door shut behind him. Gaius, obviously used to such outbursts from his ward, didn’t even bat an eye. Bent over his workplace, he held a vial of something decidedly foul-smelling over the flame.

“How can one person be so pig-headed?”

Merlin stomped over to the table and, magic crackling around him fiercely, plopped on the bench. Gaius just hummed non-committally and poured the foul-smelling substance from the vial into a bowl, green smoke puffing up. The furious warlock crossed his arms in front of his chest and ploughed on,

“I saved his stupid neck today. _Again_. And what do I get? A thanks?” He released a derisive snort. “No. Oh, no. Not for Merlin. No. All I get as a thank you is having to wash his dirty socks. Because that’s what Merlin is for. Right?”

He glared at Gaius accusingly. The physician released a long-suffering sigh. He put the spatula down and finally pulled his eyes away from the strange concoction in the bowl.

“What did Arthur do now?”

Merlin narrowed his eyes as he heard the patronizing tinge in Gaius’ voice. He was too angry to address that, though, and preferred it to nettle on about the king, “He is so _blind_. I mean, _how_ is that even possible?”  
  
“Considering your situation,” Gaius replied dryly. “Shouldn’t you be glad that Arthur isn’t the most perceptive person?”

Merlin’s magic gave an angry budge and a roll of parchment on the table singed dangerously. He ignored that as well as the logic in Gaius’ statement. He was too annoyed for logic.

“Agravaine,” Merlin spat the name in disgust. “He is so clearly working for Morgana. How, _how_ , can Arthur trust that man?”

“Well,” Gaius pointed out calmly. “He _is_ Arthur’s uncle.”

Merlin sent his mentor a dark look. “And Morgana is his _sister_. Didn’t stop her to try to kill the silly king. You’d think Arthur would learn.”

The physician sighed. Merlin’s mood only soured as Gaius didn’t want to show the appropriate outrage at the situation. By now, the roll of parchment on the table smoked. Gaius turned to the pot hanging over the fireplace. Then he scooped some of the pottage into a bowl. He placed the bowl and a wooden spoon in front of Merlin.

“Eat.”

Still fuming, Merlin reached for the spoon while Gaius patted at his parchment, dousing the smouldering. Meanwhile, the warlock grinded out,

“The problem isn’t even that he trusts Agravaine. I can kind of understand that. That man is pretty good at lying. But why does Arthur _never_ listen to me? Doesn’t matter that we’re friends at all.”

Feeling bitter over that realisation, Merlin spooned pottage into his mouth. Gaius sat down on the chair across from him and listened patiently while the warlock ranted on,

“He barely even knows Agravaine. And I’ve been Arthur’s friend for years. But that doesn’t count, right? Because I’m just a servant.”

He swallowed the spicey pottage and instantly stuffed more into his mouth. Around the spoon, Merlin mumbled, “’s good. Thanks.”

Gaius nodded and poured his ward a cup of water. Merlin gulped that down as well before he returned to his pottage. With the warm food in his stomach, he was starting to feel a bit better. Still, he told his mentor acridly,

“God forbid I ever speak out against a noble. I think if I ever accused Agravaine, Arthur would chuck me in the dungeons and throw the keys away. I’d rot in that cell forever, I tell you.”

Gaius unrolled the singed parchment and pursed his lips, seeing if it was salvageable. He threw Merlin a look and noted placidly,

“I don’t think so. Surely, Gwen would let you out at one point.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. It did manage to coax a laugh out of him though. The warlock’s lips curled up into a lopsided grin and he supplied, “At least the queen’s on my side.”

.+.


	3. King of Murderers

Merlin wondered what exactly they used to get that wooden flooring to shine quite so impressively. Arthur’s chambers had stone flooring, not wood. While Merlin had scrubbed it a couple of times, he’d never aimed for such a _shine_. It wasn’t like Arthur wanted to eat from the floor, right? They had plates and what not. The warlock squinted his eyes and rubbed with his boot at a floor board. Wasn’t even slippery or anything, just shiny. Bit excessive, really.

“Merlin!” an annoyed voice bored its way into his thoughts.

The warlock looked up from his pondering the wooden floor and was met by Arthur’s clear blue eyes and a sharp frown. The king cocked an impatient eyebrow and raised his goblet. Merlin could barely stop himself to roll his eyes. He stepped closer to the throne, raised the pitcher in his hand, and poured the watered wine.

“Thank you,” Arthur said, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

Merlin pasted a decidedly insincere smile on his face and gushed, “I live to serve, my Lord.”

The king gritted his teeth. Before he could snap at Merlin, though, Gwen chuckled, “Come on, you two. Pull yourselves together.”

Now Arthur looked at the queen in outrage and insisted petulantly, “ _He_ started it.”

“What?” Merlin glared at him and defended, “I didn’t do anything.”

“Exactly,” Arthur huffed.

Gwen laughed again. Then she smiled at Merlin disarmingly and said, “Can I have a bit more wine as well, please? I get the feeling I won’t survive this otherwise.”

“Of course, my Lady,” the warlock said, now without the sardonic tint.

Smiling at Gwen he poured the wine while Arthur glowered at them both. Then he seemed to resign himself to the state of affairs. He rubbed his temples as if fighting a headache. Arthur turned to Agravaine with an arched eyebrow.

“Let’s continue?”

The grin died on Merlin’s face as his gaze wandered over the man. Agravaine’s expression was carefully arranged into a politely interested mask, Merlin, though, could see that annoyed glint in his eyes. Agravaine did not appreciate this event and neither did he like being ordered about by Arthur. Still, the man smiled at the king warmly and said,

“Of course. With your leave.”

Merlin almost rolled his eyes. If only he could throw a tiny little curse at the man. That would at least make him feel better. Feeling annoyed, Merlin watched as Agravaine signalled for Leon. The knight gave a short nod. Always professional, Leon. Really, they did not deserve him at all. Merlin resolutely pushed all thoughts of Agravaine and his machinations away. For now at least. Silently, he resumed his spot behind Arthur’s throne. By now, Leon led a man and a woman in front of the throne. The man, bald spot on his head shining even more than the flooring, glared at the woman. She was quite a bit shorter and podgier than the man, and endowed with ample bosom that strained the fastening of her dress. The glare on her face was equally sharp, though.

“Well, then,” Arthur said. “What seems to be the problem?”

As if he had only waited for that, the man jumped into a tirade, “Milord, it’s ‘er tavern tha’s the problem. It’d be stinkin’ up the whole street, is what. ‘n all that riff-raff. Scares me customers right off.”

The woman released quite the unlady-like snort. “Beg ya pardon, milord, but he’s a right pansy. Jus’ yesterday, he waltzed in ter me fine _establishment_. Demanded a pint of me best ale. So, I says, nah, ya gotta clear yer tab first. Owes me quite the coin, he does. ‘cause he likes ter drink himself silly. Then he jus’ flipped out. Scared _my_ customers away.”

“Stop yer lyin’,” the man now glamoured, face turning red with anger. “I don’t owe ya shite!”

The woman rolled her eyes and sneered, “There ya go, milord. Ya see what I gotter deal wif. An’ if anyone’s stinkin’ up the streets, it be tha’ week ole fish he’s tryin’ ter flog off.”

“Ya crazy, old hag,” the man snapped. “Why don’t ya tell the king abou’ last night, huh? One of _yer_ customers tottered out yer pigsty. Then, jus’ in front me shop, tha’ bastard squats down and takes a huge-“

Merlin decided to tune out. After all, he was nothing but a humble servant. He really shouldn’t worry himself with such kingly business. A smirk curled his lips as he saw how Arthur’s left eye started to twitch as he listened to the nagging. Well, it was his own fault, really. _He_ insisted to provide the citizens with the opportunity to have an audience with the king himself every odd month. At least Arthur tried to hide his annoyance behind a faux interested façade. Agravaine wasn’t even trying anymore. Angry furrow on his brow, he glowered at the squabbling pair and Merlin thoroughly enjoyed the man’s displeasure.

Lazily, the warlock let his gaze wander over the throne room. It was quite crowded. By the entrance door, peasants waited, more or less patiently, to be allowed to step to the throne so they might bring their problems in front of the king. Two of Camelot’s guards stood by the huge doors while Elyan and Percival tried to keep the waiting people under control. Sirs Leon, Gwaine, and Owain stood by the king and queen to protect if necessary. A couple of noblemen were present as well, lounging in their seats with servants standing right behind them, and tried to look mighty important. Merlin really had no idea what they even wanted here. Then again, he peered at the tavern matron and the fishmonger who still yelled at each other, the whole affair _did_ have a certain entertainment factor.

Merlin shuffled slightly. His feet started to hurt from all the standing around he was doing. He threw the servant entrance a longing look and wondered if he could risk trying to sneak off. He caught the queen’s eye. Gwen smiled at him knowingly and winked. Merlin grinned right back at her. Before he could tiptoe away, though, Arthur raised his goblet again and Merlin poured him more of the watered wine. This time, he couldn’t even blame the king. He was thinking about taking a sip right from the pitcher, himself.

.+.

“May the Lord have mercy,” Arthur released a long-suffering breath of air.

He peered at Merlin and rubbed a hand over his tired face. The warlock arched an eyebrow at the king which prompted Arthur to add,

“I’m going to end this when the bells toll for Vespers. I don’t care how many people still wait. I’m done."

“I don’t know what you mean, Sire,” Merlin chirped, sarcasm thick to his tone. “I am having the time of my life here."

He grinned at the king for good measure, thoroughly enjoying to tease the other man. Arthur narrowed his eyes and informed him stiltedly, “Well, if you like this, it’s going to get even better for you. Because after this I need a trainings session. And you’re going to stand in for target practice.”

Now Merlin pulled a face and a smirk curled at Arthur’s lips. Gwen, harried look hovering about her, threw Arthur a glare and decided, “If you don’t end this at Vespers, I might strangle you.”

Despite his own exasperation, the king couldn’t help but chuckled at that. He sent his wife a decidedly innocent look which only managed to darken the expression on Gwen’s face further.

“It’s not my fault,” Arthur insisted. “This was all _Merlin_ ’s idea.”

The warlock spluttered at that and nearly dropped the pitcher with wine. “Excuse me, what?!”

“It was,” Arthur told him haughtily. “ _You_ said I should keep myself updated to the woes of my people.”

“Yeah,” Merlin drawled. “But what I meant was maybe take the occasional stroll through the lower town and have a chat here and there. Not invite everyone into the throne room to have a screaming match.”

“Be that as it may.”

The king waved a dismissive hand at Merlin as if he were shooing away an especially annoying fly. Merlin threw him a waspish glare, but retreated from the throne. Arthur ignored him completely and motioned for Leon to let the next person step forward, seeing as Agravaine was busy emptying his own goblet of wine. Still grumbling under his breath about annoying prats, Merlin watched as a woman stepped in front of the throne. Only slightly younger than Gaius, her grey hair sat in a messy bun on her head. The hair colour would’ve matched the coarse fabric of her dress if it hadn’t been covered by dirt. All of that wasn’t what made Merlin’s shoulders tense with a foreboding feeling, though. Through the folds of her dress, he saw the glint of a silver chain. A talisman dangled from the chain, a rune from the Old Religion.

“What is your concern?” Arthur asked, clear blue eyes trained on the old woman.

The old hag bowed to him and said, voice raspy, “My concerns are manifold, king.”

_Oh, this does not bode well at all_ , Merlin thought to himself in exasperation. The king, frown on his face, leaned a bit forward in his throne and demanded,

“State your business, then.”

The old woman straightened up again and, smirk curving her lips, her eyes shortly slipped to Agravaine before she stared at Arthur again. Through the corners of his eyes, Merlin saw the knights tense. They had obviously sensed something off as well.

“My strife,” the old woman declared loudly, fire burning in her eyes. “is with you, king of murderers.”

Anger erupted on Arthur’s face at that address and whispers erupted in the hall. The king glared at the woman, thunderous expression on his features, and his fingers twitched as if longing to reach for his sword. It was Gwen’s hand on his arm that did the trick. With visible effort Arthur pulled himself together. Voice tart, he snapped at Leon,

“Escort her off the premises.”

Instantly, Leon stepped forward to grab the offending woman. Merlin wasn’t completely surprised as the old hag released a cackle, not impressed by the knight.

“I don’t think so,” the old woman spat at Arthur. “Not until you pay for what you have done.”

Her hand snapped up and her eyes glowed golden. A harsh blue light careened through the air. It rammed into Leon and the knight cried out in surprise as he was hurled away. With a loud crash he landed on the stone floor, gasping for air. People yelled in fear, noblemen ducked under the tables, servants screamed and ran for the door, knights pulled their swords. In short, the throne room quickly descended into chaos. Merlin stood, frozen into place, by the throne with the pitcher of wine in his hand. While the knights surrounded the old woman, swords at the ready, the warlock couldn’t help but notice that Agravaine hadn’t joined them. Surreptitiously, the man held himself at the back of the events, watching.

“Surrender,” Gwaine growled at the woman.

Sword raised, the knight advanced on her. The other knights swiftly followed suit. Even Leon, face pale from the previous attack, joined them.

“I’m not here for you,” the sorceress sneered at them.

Elyan, grim look on his face, raised his sword and slashed it through the air. Owain quickly followed suit and swung his sword. It would’ve cut right into the sorceress’ side. She raised her hand again and hissed,

“Oferswing!”

(Strike!)

Instantly, Elyan and Owain were pushed away. They lost their footing and impacted hard with the floor, armour leaving deep scratches in the wooden flooring.

“Damn it!” Gwaine barked.

He lunged forward, jabbing his sword towards the sorceress’ chest. The woman easily waved her hand and Merlin watched with wide eyes as Gwaine crashed into one of the tables. The table burst under the impact and the knight groaned in pain, lying in a heap of wood. The sorceress, malicious glint in her eyes, now turned to Arthur and panic was descending upon Merlin. The king had drawn his sword as well and stood protectively in front of Gwen. Merlin’s eyes frantically switched from the king to the sorceress. He needed to do something! His magic was rushing through him in a panicked rage, seeking to be released. Merlin’s hands trembled heavily and the pitcher fell to the floor, spilling wine.

“Protect the king!” Leon barked out the order.

Through the corners of his eyes, Merlin saw the knights rushing towards Arthur. There was a copiously bleeding gash at Gwaine’s temple but it didn’t stop the knight.

“You won’t get away with this, sorceress!” Arthur barked at her in his anger.

Sword in hand, the king faced the witch. Merlin felt his heart racing in his chest as the sorceress once again raised her hand and he could already feel the magic gathering around her. Arthur had fallen into his fighting stance, ready for her attack, and panic curled tightly around Merlin.

“You will die, king!” the woman screeched at Arthur, fury burning in her eyes.

Merlin’s eyes flew over the throne room to find any way to stop this. This time around, though, there were no chandeliers that could conveniently drop on the witch, no wooden beam that might mysteriously fall loose to bury her. In any case, too many eyes were assembled. There was nothing Merlin could do in stealth and fear twisted around him.

“Arthur!” Gwen cried, panic in her tone.

Fear clenched around Merlin’s heart as he watched Arthur attack the sorceress with nothing but his sword. The woman cackled as the king brandished his sword in a wide arc, seeking to cut into her neck. She raised her hand, eyes burning golden. Arthur immediately abandoned his attack. It had never been more than a feint. Arthur ducked, one knee on the floor, and the magic rushed over his head, missing him by a hair’s breadth. Not missing a beat, he pushed himself forward and Merlin saw something glinting in the king’s left hand. Arthur had pulled his dagger. Faster than a sword could ever be, the dagger sliced through the air. The sorceress shrieked out in pain and staggered away. Crimson red, blood ran from a deep cut in her shoulder and soaked into the grey of her dress. Arthur never hesitated but pressed on. His sword hissed forward sharply, its tip aiming for the sorceress’ stomach.

The attack should’ve impaled her and killed her. Arthur was fast and really the best swordsman in the whole of Camelot and beyond. But seconds before the king’s sword could deliver that fatal blow, a wave of furious magic erupted from the woman. The king gasped in pain as the maelstrom seized him and hurled him away, the sword tumbling from his hand. The knights were hit by the shockwave of magic as well and violently pushed away. Gwen’s fearful sob echoed through Merlin,

“No. Arthur…”

Merlin’s breath hitched as he stared at the queen. Tears glinting in her eyes, she weakly leaned against the side of her throne and stared at where Arthur had fallen. Now unarmed, the king lay on the floor, dizzy and hurt, as he pushed himself up. His knights weren’t faring any better. The breath had been knocked out of them and they tried to struggle to their feet. There was a wild, triumphant look on her face as the sorceress advanced on the fallen king. That look of triumph was eerily mirrored on Agravaine’s face. Merlin balled his hands into tight fists and without the shadow of a doubt he knew that Arthur’s uncle had instigated this. Merlin’s heart skipped a fearful beat as he watched the sorceress tower over his best friend.

“It’s time to rid the world of you, Pendragon,” the sorceress declared, magic humming around her.

Jaw set, Arthur glared up at her and was not willing to back down, even now. His voice rung clear and loud as he said commandingly, “Do what you must, witch. But know that you will not get away with your crimes.”

The sorceress scoffed at him. Her magic still crackled around her as she slowly raised a hand, ready to strike Arthur down. Merlin couldn’t think as his mind twisted into a panicked mess. This was it. He knew it. His time was up. What choice did he have?

“Stop.”

Not as loud, not as clear as the king’s, Merlin’s voice still managed to cut through the tense silence. He could feel Gwen’s tearful eyes on him, her worry carrying him away. Shaking all over, Merlin took a step towards the sorceress. All eyes were on him now, and they burned right through him. His voice trembled as he repeated,

“Stop this.”

He could see the derision glinting in the sorceress’ eyes. She wouldn’t stop. Of course, the scorn dripped from her lips, “What now, servant boy? What do _you_ hope to achieve?”

Merlin shook his head gently and begged her, “Please, just leave.”

It was almost comical how no one dared to move. Not the knights, neither noblemen, nor peasants, they all watched with baited breath as the sorceress still had her hand raised at the king, magic burning around her splayed fingers. Arthur, blue eyes wide, stared up at Merlin. There was a sharp frown between his eyebrows, though, as he hissed at Merlin,

“What are you doing, idiot? Get away.”

If he weren’t shaking so badly, Merlin would have barked out a laugh. He risked a glance at the king. His own voice sounded strange to Merlin as it came from his raw throat,

“Arthur… I… I’m sorry. Forgive me.”

Confusion slid over Arthur’s handsome features. Before he could question his servant, though, the sorceress had had enough. Voice sharp as a knife, she snarled,

“Enough of this!” She glared down at the king. “Your end is nigh. Prepare.”

As if time had slowed down, Merlin watched her as she brought down her hand. Her magic flared around her and rushed through her fingers. Loaded with hate, it _would_ kill Arthur. Merlin allowed no more doubts in his head. His magic sung to him as he flicked his fingers and let it free. The warlock could feel his eyes burn up with the force as he cried out, 

“Gescildan!”

(Shield!)

A golden shield pulsed into life around the king. The sorceress’ attack crashed into the shield and burst into nothing with a loud crack. It was followed by deafening silence. Merlin glimpsed Arthur’s face, white as chalk, as the king stared at him. He couldn’t… didn’t dare look any closer and averted his eyes.

“Who are you?” the sorceress screamed in mindless rage. “Why are you defending _him_?!”

The woman now faced Merlin and her magic flared around her in a vengeful cloud. Merlin worried his bottom lip. Voice soft, he replied,

“No one. Just… no one.”

“You’re one of us!” the woman thundered at him, spittle flying from her mouth. “Why fight for the murderer?”

An answer was not what she sought. It had always been vengeance. Sharp as a blade, her magic cut through the air and careened towards Merlin. Her attack was powerful, but Merlin’s magic was keen to meet it. The force burned up in him and he could feel it flashing through his eyes, giving them a golden hue. His magic wrapped around hers and mercilessly throttled it until there was nothing left. The woman’s eyes widened as she saw her attack thwarted. She stumbled a step away from him and stammered,

“Y- you… you… Who _are_ you?!”

“Please,” Merlin whispered. “Don’t do this. Leave.”

The hate burning in her magic told him that she would not. That this could not end easily. Hand trembling, the sorceress waved it again, summoning her magic. Merlin did not want to prolong this anymore. His magic licked over him, whispered to him, and begged him to be set free once again. With a heavy heart, Merlin followed his magic’s call. He let it well out of him and with a deep voice, he formed it into a spell, 

“Swilte, scinnlæce!”

(Die violently, sorceress.)

The very air roiled with his magic and the force sung to him. Bristling with power, it rushed towards the witch, rammed into her body, and brutally flung her away. Merlin saw her eyes widen in shock. No sound left her lips as the sorceress was violently pushed away. She impacted hard with the throne room’s stone wall and Merlin winced as he heard a sharp crack. The woman tumbled to the floor where she sagged down, not moving anymore. Merlin stared at her still form. There was a pang of regret. He could sense her magic dying, dissolving into nothing, never to come back. Sorrow gripped him as he stared at her body and mourned a life lost. Silence reigned in the throne room and Merlin’s mind buzzed with grief as he watched her magic and her being disappear. It was a yell, full of hate, that ripped him back into the situation at hand,

“Sorcerer!”

The situation sharpened around him and a surge of fear cut through Merlin’s thoughts. Wide with upcoming panic, his eyes danced over the room.

“He’s a fuckin’ sorcerer!”

One of the servants spat out, disgust in his eyes. Merlin didn’t recognize the man, but he _did_ know the hate on the man’s face. Nobles and servants alike all stared at him. Some of those faces held fear, some disgust, all of them that very same hate. Merlin’s whole body stiffened as their accusatory gazes sliced into him. The knights, swords still in hand, now turned their weapons on him and Merlin swallowed nervously. Quickly, he lowered his hands in a gesture of peace.

“I… I…”

No explanation came to him, though. Panic flaring in his chest, Merlin watched how Leon’s fingers curled tightly around the hilt of his sword as if steeling himself for something.

“What was that?”

The familiar voice came from behind him and Merlin trembled as he heard the anger wrapped around it. Everything in him screamed to run, but he couldn’t. He had to face this. Breath coming in fearful gasps, Merlin slowly turned around.

There he stood, King Arthur, in all his glory, and Merlin did not dare meet his eyes. Panic mounted up in him until he could barely breathe. Magic. Magic. Merlin had used magic and Arthur had seen it. No lie could explain this away. The warlock stared at the sword that lay on the floor beside Arthur’s feet. Up his gaze wandered, over kingly garments, a heavy golden chain around his neck, and higher still. Merlin could hear his own blood rushing in his ears, driven by fear he could barely contain.

Then he stared into sharp eyes. There was a furious storm raging in those blue orbs, screaming murder at Merlin. A hushed silence had fallen over the hall, the hate of the others momentarily suspended in face of the king’s wrath. Merlin barely noticed. Everything else was pushed into the background – staring nobles, dumbfounded knights, panicking servants, nothing mattered anymore – until only that fury, burning in his friend, existed.

“A- Arthur?”

His voice was a pathetic whisper and yet, to his ears, it echoed deafeningly loud in the silence of the hall. The king didn’t reply. The anger blazing in his eyes didn’t go away either.

“ _What_ was that?” Arthur demanded to know, menacing edge lacing his words.

“I- I-“ Merlin stuttered pathetically. “It was… She was attacking you and I- I _had_ to stop her. I’m sorry. I didn’t have any other choice. She would’ve killed you. I’m so sorry. I didn’t want you to find out like this. Please, Arthur, believe me. I j- just… I needed to stop h-“

“With magic?” Arthur harshly cut over him and Merlin flinched.

The warlock swallowed thickly around the lump in his throat. In a shaky voice, he confessed, “It was the only thing I could do. I know i- it looks bad, but I can explain.”

He could see Arthur’s jaw clench as if forcing composure and Merlin trembled.

“Magic,” the king hissed, no longer a question. “You are a sorcerer.”

Merlin’s throat rough, he didn’t think he would’ve been able to say any more. So, he just gave him a nod. The truth was out, finally. It wasn’t the relief he had always hoped it would be. Merlin had imagined it often, but only in his nightmares it had been like this.

“So, it’s you.”

Merlin whirled around. His eyes widened as he found Agravaine just a few steps away from him. The man stared at Merlin in pure disbelief. There was, though, a sliver of recognition awakening in the man’s eyes that made Merlin’s breath hitch. Agravaine’s gaze wandered over Merlin, taking the warlock in, and realisation crawled over his face. Still, incredulity laced his tone as Agravaine whispered,

“And you’ve been at court all this time…? At Arthur’s side?”

Merlin couldn’t get any air into his lungs as panic cruelly descended upon him while his magic rushed through him, an anxious mess. His whole body stood petrified in fear as he felt all the eyes on him. At the sight, vile amusement gleamed in Agravaine’s eyes. Merlin felt sick as he could hear the scorn lurking in the man’s tone,

“How you’ve managed to deceive him.”

Merlin opened his mouth to deny, but his voice had abandoned him. It was then that something flashed through Agravaine’s eyes, dark and full of hate. Like a viper seeking to strike its teeth into prey, the man shot towards Merlin. A dagger slashed after the warlock’s throat with murderous intent. With a spike of panic, instinct carried Merlin’s actions. He sharply brought his hands up and allowed his magic to burst free. For a second, Merlin could see Agravaine’s eyes widen in shock. Then the man was brutally flung away. He knocked into the floor. There was a sickeningly wet sound as Agravaine’s head impacted with the stone. He tumbled before he lay still, eyes open and unseeing.

“NO!”

Merlin stared, heart hammering away in his chest, as Arthur sunk down beside his uncle. Eyes blown wide, the king stared down at Agravaine. His hand shook as he gingerly placed it on the man’s shoulder. The broken look on Arthur’s face sent an agonizing stab right through Merlin’s chest. Weakly, he stumbled a step back.

“I… I didn’t…”

At Merlin’s trembling voice, Arthur’s head snapped to him. The grief rapidly bled from his handsome features and soon frost covered the king’s face. Slowly, Arthur climbed to his feet, stony eyes never leaving Merlin. The warlock was quaking in fear and yet could not look away from the king. Arthur’s face was an unreadable, cold mask as he walked over to Merlin, steps measured like a predator stalking its prey. The warlock felt the strong need to shy away from the king. He remained rooted to the spot, though, and soon Arthur stood right in front of him. Merlin hunched his shoulders and stared at the king fearfully.

“I… didn’t mean to…” he whispered pathetically.

Arthur’s unforgiving gaze cut into him and Merlin barely dared to draw breath. Something snapped in the king’s eyes. Before Merlin knew what happened, Arthur pulled back his fist and placed a harsh punch to Merlin’s jaw. A gasp of shock and pain on his lips, the warlock impacted hard with the stone floor. His head swam, jaw throbbing in pain.

“You killed him,” Arthur whispered, hate tightly wrapped around his voice. “Sorcerer.”

He spat that last word with disgust. Merlin lay at the king’s feet and stared up at him with wide eyes. The metallic taste of blood was on his tongue and this was so wrong. So wrong. Merlin didn’t know what to do. Panic clouded his mind as the world he had so carefully crafted around himself collapsed. And all his lies were strangling him. The king wasn’t finished with him. Arthur bent down and grabbed Merlin by his shirt. Only absently, the warlock noted how everyone in the hall breathlessly watched the spectacle between their king and his servant. Arthur brutally wrenched Merlin up into a kneeling position. Destructive fury was still dancing in the king’s eyes. This was _much_ worse than Merlin’s nightmares. His magic told him to protect himself, but he wouldn’t allow it to lash out at Arthur.

“Y- you…” Merlin croaked out. “Let me explain, _please_. I mean no harm.”

Again, Arthur raised his fist and mercilessly punched Merlin in the face. Merlin felt his lip split and blood gushed from his mouth. He yelped and only Arthur’s hand on his shirt kept him upright.

“You lied to me,” the king hissed, venom dripping from his words. “You’re consumed by evil!”

Arthur’s fist cruelly impacted with his nose and Merlin yelled out. He could barely take in any breath with the blood gushing from his nose and down his throat. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. _Not like this!_

“P- please,” he pleaded. “I can e- explain.”

“You betrayed me,” Arthur said, voice dipped in hate.

As he glared down at Merlin, disgust tugged at Arthur’s features. Merlin felt hot tears prickling in his eyes as he stared up at that loathing aimed at him. Feebly, he whispered,

“I’d never betray you.”

The disgust stayed on Arthur’s face. Without a warning, the king sharply brought up his knee and rammed it into Merlin’s chin. Everything exploded into pain. Merlin’s head snapped back under the force and his body crashed into the stone floor. Arthur towered over him and Merlin curled up on the floor, trying to make himself as small as possible. A kick hit him in the back and he yelped in pain. Another to his side and something cracked. Merlin sucked in a sharp breath of air. The next kick was aimed at his head and he desperately curled his arm around his head. Arthur’s boot hit his forearm and it fractured in a surge of pain.

“Arthur… please,” Merlin choked out.

Arthur grabbed him by the shoulder, fingers biting into Merlin. A whimper left the warlock as he was turned around so he lay on his stomach. He hissed in pain as his arm was brutally twisted and a harsh knee bored into his back. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. The pressure on his back increased and suddenly, Arthur’s voice hissed right into his ear, threat clear,

“Never call me that again.”

Merlin’s arm was twisted even further and he cried out in pain. Desperately, he tried to get air into his lungs. The king was relentless and demanded a reply,

“Do you understand?”

“Ah,” Merlin gasped.

The brutal hand on his arm tightened and Merlin almost had to throw up with the pain.

“Answer me, sorcerer!”

Merlin was suffocating. Everything was pain. His thoughts swam in a haze of agony. Still, he managed to sob out,

“Yes, Sire.”

The next thing he realised was that the knee was gone from his back and he could suck in precious air into his lungs. Merlin shuddered as waves of pain washed over his body. There were no more blows, though. He whimpered as he flopped on his side. His left side was aflame with pain and he curled around it. Everything ached and he could barely form any thought.

Trembling all over, Merlin blinked his eyes open. The throne room spun around him, making him violently dizzy. Arthur was still there and Merlin whimpered in fear. The king, though, didn’t spare him any attention. Instead, he barked orders at a pair of guards.

Blurry faces swam around Merlin. Most, he didn’t recognize. They all stared at him in shock and disgust. There was Gwaine, face twisted with fury, as he yelled something. Three guards had to restrain the knight. Merlin blinked his eyes and the vertigo got even worse. Gwen stood still by the throne and her eyes were wide with shock as she stared at Merlin. Elyan was by her side, holding her gently. Percival stood beside them and he still held his sword. Merlin could see the knight’s hand tremble slightly. The warlock gasped in another painful breath. Sir Leon had stepped over to the king. The knight’s face had never been so pale, Merlin noted stupidly.

“Right away!” Arthur snarled at two guards.

The men bowed to him and then turned to Merlin. His sluggish thoughts couldn’t quite catch up as they stepped closer. One of the guards bent down to him and grabbed him. As he was wrenched up, Merlin’s world once again was torn up in pain. He wanted to scream, but only a whimper left him. Everything spun even worse as he suddenly was upright again, flanked on both sides by a guard. Merlin could feel blood flowing down his face. It dripped from his chin in a steady flow.

The guards dragged him off and each of their steps sent excruciating pain through Merlin’s body. His head felt like stuffed with cotton wool and darkness. Camelot’s hallways were there, familiar. People stared, none spoke. The darkness draped over him completely and the next time Merlin could think again, the guards pulled him down a flight of uneven stairs. The air was cold and stale. Torches burned at the walls. There was the clinking of keys. Metal bars, rusty with age. Merlin swallowed and could only taste blood. The guards threw him and he crashed to the floor. More pain and the darkness took him again.

.+.


	4. Emptiness between Atoms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello dear readers. Another chapter for you to read. I hope you enjoy it! I want to thank everyone who left me kudos and commented on this fic. You guys are awesome :) I really love hearing from you.

The next time Merlin woke was to the light of flickering torches and coldness. He lay on his side and everything hurt. Even drawing breath hurt. His brain wouldn't grant him even a moment of dazed confusion. No, immediately an image of Arthur's angry face spooked through Merlin's mind. The disgust, though, was worse than the anger. _Magic…_ He had used magic right in the throne room. Powerful, dangerous magic. Now the old sorceress and Agravaine were gone. Merlin hadn't wanted to kill anyone. He had just tried to protect. A whimper fell from Merlin's lips. Gods. He had… _Arthur_ had seen it. His stomach gave a lurch at the thought.

"Consumed by evil," the warlock whispered, voice rough.

Merlin tried to sit up, but the movement sent shooting pains through his left side and he gasped. Sucking in shallow breaths, he lay on the cold floor. His face throbbed painfully with each heartbeat. With unseeing eyes, he stared at the rough stone walls and metal bars from his cell. This was where Arthur wanted him. Merlin gritted his teeth and even that sent pain throbbing through his head. How pathetic could he get? Cursing himself for his own stupidity, Merlin again tried to sit up. His head spun, accompanied by nausea, and blinding pain clawed at his left side. Merlin pulled through and managed to sit up, sagging with his back against the dungeon wall.

Carefully, he pulled his hurt left arm into his lap. Even in the dim lighting, he could see it was swollen and bruised heavily. He wondered if it was broken as well. A couple of his ribs surely were. Stupidly, the memory of him polishing Arthur's boots just the day previous sprang up in his mind's eye. Merlin could almost see himself, crouched on the floor in the king's chambers, as he rubbed the polish into the leather. Who'd have thought he'd have those very same boots kick in his ribs just a day later?

At the thought, something constricted around his throat, cruel and raw, and he blinked his eyes. A few tears escaped and Merlin desperately tried to ignore the empty feeling in his chest. Numbly, his gaze wandered over his cell. It was dark, cold, and bare. They hadn't even given him some straw. No, he sat on the raw stone floor. Through the bars, he saw a torch, flames sadly struggling against the dark. Merlin trembled and he wasn't sure whether it was from the cold or the pain.

_Damn it all._

He wanted to pull up his magic, burst open the door, and run. Run from this all. From this dungeon, from the darkness, and from that hate in Arthur's eyes.

He couldn't.

Where would he even go to? Camelot was his _home_. His duty lay here. He had to protect Arthur. A groan left Merlin. He really needed to calm down. Panicking wouldn't help him right now. Certainly, not all was lost. Arthur was furious with him, disappointed, but sooner or later the king would see reason. Agravaine's death had shaken Arthur, Merlin knew that. In the king's eyes the man had been a trusted advisor, _family_. In that light, Arthur's violent reaction was, if not acceptable, at least understandable. Merlin stared at the dirty floor in front of him as he tried to bring order back to his swirling thoughts.

Arthur wasn't stupid. He _knew_ Merlin. After his rage calmed, the king would want to talk with him. He'd give Merlin the opportunity to explain. And then, Merlin would tell him the truth. Everything. He would tell him about Agravaine's alliance with Morgana, about their attempts to take Arthur's life.

And he would tell him about Emrys and their destiny.

.+.

"But it's Merlin."

There was a tug in Arthur's chest at hearing the name alone. Anger seething, he grabbed the goblet with wine and took a swig. The alcohol burned nicely down his throat.

"He betrayed us," he decided tightly. "He _murdered_ my uncle."

Guinevere sank down in the chair opposite from him, distraught look on her pretty face. She stared at him with wide eyes and Arthur could see tears swimming in them. He hated Merlin even more now.

"Arthur, you…" she whispered and he saw her gaze was stuck on his hand holding the goblet.

His knuckles were raw, skin chafed at places and red. He had lost control. That's how far the sorcerer had driven him. Angrily, Arthur put the goblet down on the table. He pulled his hands out of sight and laid them on his thighs under the table.

"I…" he tried and the anger still burned hot as fire. "I lost it, Guinevere. I shouldn't have attacked him like that. It was… unbecoming."

_Among other things._

His wife stared at him, eyes red, and she breathed, "No. You shouldn't have."

"I know," Arthur replied tersely.

For a moment, they sat in silence. The king stared down at the table top, eyes unseeing. He still couldn't believe that Agravaine truly was gone. Gods, he'd known that Merlin didn't like Agravaine. He should've done something. Now the only blood relative that Arthur had left was Morgana, of all people. At the thought, the royal was hit by the urge to march down to Merlin's dungeon cell and continue what he had started in the throne room. That was what Merlin had reduced him to. A violent, _blind_ idiot.

"I just don't understand," Guinevere whispered shakily. "How is this possible? Since when does Merlin have magic?"

"I don't know," Arthur replied, fighting for composure.

"I mean, it can't have been for long, right?" His wife looked at him pleadingly. "We'd have noticed, surely."

He had been so stupidly blind. A filthy sorcerer had made Arthur dance to his wicked tune. It made him sick as he had to confess, "I didn't notice anything. This is all my fault."

"No, Arthur." Guinevere's pretty eyes flashed to him in concern. Hastily, she assured, "We all never noticed anything. It's not your fault."

He sent her a small, if a bit shaky, smile. Still, he should've noticed the magic and should've put a stop to it. He wondered what had driven Merlin to study those dark arts. What had happened to drive the harmless, kind-hearted servant to abandon all honour?

"He can't be evil, though," Guinevere whispered, voice quavery. Her eyes flicked to his hopefully. "Right? He's… just misled, surely."

Something squeezed around Arthur's chest and he swallowed thickly. Fighting for composure, he replied, "I grew up with Morgana. We were friends and I would've trusted her with my life. I would've trusted her with _your_ life." He stared at Guinevere and desperation wrenched at him. "And I-"

He couldn't continue and bent his head, eyes burning with unshed tears. A hand gingerly curled around his arm and Arthur looked up. Guinevere had reached for him, her touch grounding him, while sadness swam in her eyes. Arthur took in a shaky breath of air.

"Morgana is evil. Magic has twisted her into a monster." Self-contempt entered his voice as he continued, "And I was blind to it. For so long. I didn't see. Didn't want to see. And people _died_. It was my fault. I will never make that mistake again."

Guinevere's hand gave him a gentle squeeze. Then she let go of him again. Arthur again reached for his goblet and took a gulp of the red wine. He wished he could just drink this whole thing away.

"He tried to save you, though." Guinevere eyed him searchingly. "Merlin warded off that sorceress' spell."

Arthur nodded softly. "It appeared to be that way."

Guinevere arched a thin eyebrow. "Appeared…?"

"We don't know what he planned. Maybe they were accomplices. Who is to tell between all those lies? In the end, he killed an innocent man today." He sent her a shaky look. "However Merlin uses his magic, it doesn't matter. It's still a force of evil. The moment he decided to give himself to that darkness, he was lost to us."

Arthur closed his eyes. He wished this was only a bad dream he could wake up from. How could it have been Merlin? He looked at his wife again and was torn apart by the grief he found on her face. He could not risk Guinevere, nor Camelot's safety, not even for Merlin's sake. Arthur knew, he must not cave.

"What are you going to do with him?" Guinevere asked, tone strangled.

Arthur stared at her and his world twisted around him. It felt as if Merlin had taken a cruel knife to him and cut his heart right out of his chest. He had abandoned Arthur in this unbearably cold world. Guinevere sniffled and this time the tears brimmed over. She rubbed with a shaky hand over her eyes.

"Arthur…" she whispered shakily. "Merlin is my best friend."

Something coldly, cruelly sliced at Arthur and he could barely breathe. More tears rolled down Guinevere's soft skin and he could feel his own eyes water. He didn't bother to hide his tears, but let them roll down his face. He had never said it out loud, but he had considered Merlin to be his best friend as well. What a farce. The hollow feeling in his chest was now accompanied by a wave of hate. Merlin had destroyed everything. Arthur's tone was covered by a layer of frost as he replied,

"You may have been his friend, but he never was yours. It was nothing but lies."

.+.

"Here," the guard grunted. "'s all ya get. Even tha's too much for someone like yerself."

The man threw something at Merlin. He flinched as it hit his leg and tumbled on the floor. The guard sneered at Merlin's slumped form in the cell. Without further words, the man then left again, shuffling down the corridor. Merlin frowned at his retreating back. His gaze dropped to the pitiful crumb of bread the guard had tossed at him. Merlin picked it up. The bread was dry and hard as a rock. He still nibbled at it, seeing that it was still better than nothing. At least he'd been given some water earlier as well.

As he ate, Merlin wondered how long he'd been in the dungeons already. It felt like an eternity, but it hadn't been more than a day. Merlin could tell, because high up in the wall, his cell had a small window. Too small for a man to squeeze through and barred, but still a window that showed the passage of daylight. It was just unfortunate, that it didn't only let in daylight, but also the cold winter air. Merlin sighed and nibbled at his bread.

When would Arthur finally come?

Merlin took in a shuddering breath of air. He could still feel the king's hands on him. His face throbbed in pain where Arthur had hit him. The dried blood stuck to his skin with a metallic smell that made him sick. Done with his meagre meal, Merlin readjusted his position leaned against the dungeon wall. A soft whimper left him as he was instantly punished by a sharp pain from his left side. By now, he was pretty sure he had at least broken one rib, most likely more than that. His right hand lay on his painful left side and he tried to take in shallow breaths of air.

He wanted to talk with Arthur.

But then he also desperately _didn't_ want to see the man.

Merlin worried his bottom lip and stubbornly ignored the unpleasant knot in his stomach. He was not looking forward to telling Arthur the truth. He didn't quite know how best to break Agravaine's betrayal to the king. It would probably send the man into another fit of rage. Well, the upside was that by that point Arthur would be on the other side of bars. Merlin rolled his eyes at the thought. In all seriousness, though, he had no idea how Arthur would react to their shared destiny, to Emrys and the Once and Future King. Despite it all, though, maybe there was a ray of hope. Once Arthur knew the truth, it would be easier for Merlin to protect him.

Merlin's thoughts were interrupted by rustling coming from down the corridor. Involuntarily, he stiffened as he heard steps coming towards him. Arthur? Merlin's heart skipped a beat and he was not ready for this conversation. He sat up a bit straighter. It didn't take long, and a man stepped in front of his cell. Merlin's eyes widened.

"Gwaine?"

Grin in place, it really was Gwaine. The knight's chainmail glittered even in the dim torch light. His sword hung from a richly decorated belt while his hand lay on the hilt.

"Of course," Gwaine said and arched a taunting eyebrow. "Did you expect anyone else?"

Merlin stared at him warily. He wasn't sure what the knight thought of him, now that his magic was exposed. Gwaine had been in the throne room, when Merlin had fought off the sorceress, but how had the knight reacted to Merlin's magic? Everything was a mess in the warlock's head. Silently, Merlin watched as Gwaine turned his head as if checking for any sounds coming from up the stairs. Then the man stepped closer to the metal bars and gazed at Merlin. He cocked an eyebrow and drawled,

"You know, I thought you would put-" Gwaine wiggled with his fingers. "-a magical hand to this _dreadful_ interior design."

Seeing the mischievous glint in his friend's eyes made Merlin instantly relax. He even barked out a laugh. It was instantly punished by a sharp pain from his side. Merlin groaned and grabbed at his broken ribs. Merlin's pain washed away the grin on Gwaine's face. Scanning the hurt warlock in worry, the knight sighed,

"Oh, Merlin. What did he do to you?"

Merlin sent him a small smile. "You know me, Gwaine. I've had worse."

The man huffed an indignant breath and leaned his forehead against the bars, still staring at Merlin's huddled form. Anger was wrapped around Gwaine's next words, as he spat,

"I swear, I'm going to kill the bastard for this."

"No," Merlin instantly said. "You'll do no such thing."

"He'd deserve it," Gwaine hissed furiously. "How the fuck could he do that?"

Merlin sighed and sagged against the wall behind him. Wearily, he replied, "I messed up. I just… I noticed that sorceress much too late. I should've felt her presence sooner. Then I could've stopped her before she ever set foot into the hall."

"No!" Gwaine growled, anger twisting his tone. "Don't tell me that it was your fault! Fuck, Merlin. You saved Arthur's neck."

"I killed Agravaine," Merlin whispered, voice croaky.

A troubled look washed over Gwaine's face but then he decided, "He attacked you first."

"I didn't mean to kill him," Merlin sharply bit the inner side of his cheek. "But… he was Morgana's."

"What?!" Gwaine's eyes widened in shock.

"I've known for some time now," the warlock blurted, feeling desperate for his friend to understand. "Agravaine and Morgana… They've been working on taking Arthur's life. I couldn't let that happen."

A puff of air left Gwaine's lips as he weakly sagged against the bars of the cell. He ran a hand in distress through his hair.

"Fuck, Merlin. You were trying to _save_ Arthur and he… he beat you up for your trouble."

Merlin closed his eyes shortly and took in a steadying breath of air. Arthur's angry face spooked once again through his thoughts and he quickly concentrated on Gwaine again.

"Well, I used magic," he said numbly. "That's always worth a visit to the dungeons, right?"

The knight's fingers tightened around the metal bars. His voice dropped to a hiss as he inquired, "For how long have you done this? Hm? The magic? How long?"

The sharp tone made Merlin stiffen. Nervously, he scanned Gwaine and the anger on his friend's face. The warlock swallowed around the mounting panic. His voice trembling, he replied,

"I- I always had it. The magic, it was always with me. But I… I never meant to hurt anyone." He stared at Gwaine imploringly. "Please, believe me. I was trying to protect Arthur."

In face of Merlin's fear, the anger dropped from Gwaine. He threw the warlock a reassuring smile as he whispered gingerly, "I know. Everyone not blind would realize. You've been doing that a lot, haven't you? Protecting us?"

Carefully, Merlin watched the knight. Then he gave him a small nod. Gwaine snorted and said wryly, "All those fallen branches. All the lucky instances. I'm actually a bit ashamed that I didn't see it sooner. Now that I think about it, it was so obvious."

Merlin's lips quirked up into a grin. "I'm just too sneaky for the lot of you."

Now Gwaine barked out a laugh. "Apparently."

Merlin raised a hand and ran his fingers through his dark hair. He crinkled his nose as he found it cakey and sticky at some places. Blood had stuck to his hair, clumping it together. How it had even got there was anyone's guess. He sighed softly and let his hand fall back to his lap. Absentmindedly, he trailed a finger over the bruise at his left forearm. It stung, the pain grounding him into reality.

"Merlin?" Gwaine's voice called his attention back to the knight.

He looked up and by now the mirth had left the man's face again. It looked unfamiliar with that serious expression on those handsome features. A pang of regret hit Merlin. He hadn't meant to take the grin from his friend's face. He truly had messed up this time.

"You have to leave," Gwaine said.

Now Merlin's eyebrows shot up. "What?"

"Camelot," the knight insisted. "You need to leave."

The warlock shook his head, "No. I can't."

Gwaine's fingers nervously flexed around the metal bars that he held in a death grip. His voice rough, he said, "Merlin, you cannot stay. Arthur… he won't just let this go. You can't be here anymore."

Merlin sat up straighter and completely ignored the shooting pain from his hurt side. Voice rushed, he hurriedly explained, "You don't understand. I _can't_. Arthur needs me. This is my duty. I need to make sure that he is protected. That nothing happens to him."

Gwaine crinkled his nose. "Merlin. If this is about some misplaced loyalty, then y-"

"No," he cut over him. "Arthur is meant to do great things. There's an ancient prophecy. It's my duty to ensure that it can come to pass. Peace and prosperity for everyone. Arthur will be the king that unites Albion and brings peace. But he can't do that alone. He needs my assistance. If I leave, I risk that future. Even if Arthur hates me now. He still _needs_ me."

A troubled, almost painful, expression washed over Gwaine's face. He let go of the metal bars of Merlin's cell and started to pace to and fro.

"A prophecy?" he asked weakly.

Merlin nodded hastily. "I could never abandon Arthur."

Gwaine sighed loudly and stopped his pacing. His eyes bored into Merlin and after a moment, he decided firmly,

"I don't care what you say. It still stands: You need to escape."

"And I told you, I won't," Merlin insisted.

He would've crossed his arms in front of his chest if everything hadn't hurt so horribly. Gwaine gritted his teeth and threw him a glare.

"Don't be an idiot," he said. "Look at yourself. Look at what Arthur did to you."

Merlin pressed his lips into a tight line. A dark, empty spot in his chest tugged at him. Arthur had hurt him. Yes, he knew that. Merlin had always known that Arthur hated magic. This wasn't too surprising. He had hoped his friend wouldn't have been so cruel in his anger, but Arthur's anger had not been unexpected.

"He just needs time," Merlin whispered, voice thick. "He'll calm down. Then I'll explain everything to him. He'll understand. Even the thing about Agravaine. I know it. Arthur's still my friend."

Gwaine just stared at him for a moment. A thunderous expression on his face, the knight seemed to be trapped within a difficult decision. Merlin shook his head at the stubborn man. It was the truth. He couldn't leave Arthur. They would get through this. Merlin knew he'd need time to get over the violence. And Arthur needed time to get over the lies. But they _would_ get over it.

"Shit!" Gwaine's curse cut through his thoughts. "Damn it!"

"Gwaine," Merlin tried to calm him. "It's alright. Don't worry. I know Arthur. He's hot-headed, but in the end, he'll see reason."

The knight raked shaky fingers through his hair, a strange look on his face. He cleared his throat. Still, his voice was raspy, as he said,

"Look out the window."

He gestured at the little opening high up in the dungeon wall. Merlin furrowed his brow.

"What?"

Gwaine didn't reply but just stared at him. The empty glint in his eyes prompted Merlin to comply. Gingerly, he got up from his position on the floor. He hissed in pain as he straightened up. His head spun and he felt nauseous. The window was so high up, that even standing, Merlin couldn't see out of it. He stood on his tiptoes and reached for one of the bars. His fingers hadn't yet touched the metal as suddenly a strange, foreboding feeling hit Merlin. His heart started to thunder in his chest. Somehow, he really didn't want to look out that window. This was ridiculous and yet his fingers shook violently as they curled around the metal bar. Irrational panic descended upon Merlin as he clumsily pulled his body up a bit. His injuries screamed at him in pain, but he pushed through. Then, he managed to finally peer out the window.

The sight made his blood freeze over in horror. Merlin couldn't think, couldn't believe his own two eyes, as he stared over the court yard. His vantage point low, he could see everything. The wooden stake. The bundles of twigs piled up high around it. Against the setting sun, the executioner, hard look on his face, stood in the midst of his creation.

"No," the fearful word fell from Merlin's lips.

The pyre was almost completed and he could already hear it calling his name.

Merlin let go of the window's metal bars and crashed down to his knees on the dungeon's stone floor. He yelped as his broken ribs were jostled. Panic flashing through him cold as ice, Merlin pushed himself away from the window and that horrible sight. His eyes were wide with fear as he stared up at Gwaine and pleaded, voice strangled,

"No. He can't… He won't…"

The knight worried his lip between his teeth. The pity in his eyes clawed at Merlin. Gwaine went down on his haunches so he was on eye level with Merlin. His tone was gentle as he whispered,

"I'm sorry, Merlin."

Now the tears brimmed over and ran down Merlin's cheeks. Sobs broke free from him, shaking his whole frame, and he desperately shook his head. This couldn't be happening.

"No," Merlin cried. "Please. I know him… We're friends. Why… why'd he do that? I don't understand."

Gwaine's own eyes were shining with tears now and Merlin couldn't take it. The pain was consuming him and already burned him. Tomorrow, at dawn, everything else would follow.

"He won't let you go," Gwaine told him tonelessly. "I talked with him. I swear to you, I tried. You know Arthur. But I know him as well. He won't budge and he won't show mercy."

Another sob racked Merlin's body as he could see the truth in the knight's eyes.

"P- please…"

Gwaine raised a hand as if to reach for Merlin. But they were too far apart and the bars wouldn't allow Gwaine any closer. Helplessly, the hand fell back to his side.

"Leave," the knight told him. "Flee while you still can."

More tears rolled down Merlin's face and he pushed it into his hands. He couldn't stop crying. The king's hate would see him dead. He wasn't even worth a peaceful death. No, Arthur wanted Merlin to die with pain and fire.

"Merlin, I beg you," Gwaine tried to reason. "You need to leave. Go through the siege tunnels. Get out of the city. Out of Camelot. Please."

Merlin shook his head, tears blurring his eyes. This couldn't happen. Another sob tore from him as he stared at Gwaine. The worry on the knight's pale face was harsh reality. Gwaine opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, a rough voice rang through the dark dungeon,

"Oi, what 're you doing 'ere?"

Merlin looked up and saw the guard rushing towards Gwaine, another one hot on his heels. Gwaine shot up from his position on the floor and whirled around to them. He flashed his white teeth in a grin,

"I'm just here to see my friend."

"No visitors," the guard growled. "King's orders. Be gone!"

"Nah," Gwaine said loftily. "Don't think so."

The guards narrowed their eyes at the knight. He pulled a bludgeon from his belt and waved it about.

"Off yer go," the man snapped. "We don't 'ave time for ya."

He swiped at Gwaine, but the knight managed to dance out of range. Anger twisting his face, the guard tried again. With ease, the knight avoided the attack. The second guard, tired of this display, now entered the fray. He lunged at Gwaine and tried to grab him. Gwaine twisted away and smacked his elbow into the guard's side. The man grunted in pain. The other guard used his chance and raised his bludgeon again. This time Gwaine wasn't fast enough. The truncheon hit his shoulder. Gwaine stumbled and now both guards jumped him.

"Damn," Gwaine hissed. "Calm down, ya?"

"Shut yer trap," one of the guards growled.

By now Gwaine's back was pushed into the bars, the guard tightly holding him by the shoulders. Merlin's eyes widened as he saw something glinting in Gwaine's hand. He let it go and it fell down on the floor.

"Fine. Fine!" the knight then exclaimed. "You win. Sheesh. I'm going."

The guards threw him dark looks. Then they manhandled Gwaine away from Merlin's cell. Before he left, though, Gwaine turned his head. Shortly, his gaze met Merlin's. Then, Gwaine was gone and Merlin was alone in his cell again, only his pain stayed. The window still sat threateningly above him and he felt cruel reality bursting from it. Merlin's world twisted around him and collapsed into a nightmare. Arthur would burn him.

His best friend would kill him.

Numbly, Merlin stared at the object Gwaine had dropped. In the dim light, it was hard to make out. Tears still staining his face, Merlin crawled closer. His fingers trembled heavily as they reached through the bars. Then he held a set of keys in his hand. Two rather large, rusty keys lay in his palm and Merlin gingerly ran his index finger over it. He didn't need to test it, he just knew one of them would easily slide into the lock of his cell. The other one would open the heavy door to the dungeon's exit. A small smile curled Merlin's lips. Trust Gwaine to be thorough.

The man didn't know that Merlin didn't really need any keys. Then again, if Gwaine hadn't smuggled these keys to him, Merlin wouldn't have known that there was reason to flee his cell. He'd have continued to wait for the king to come for him, to talk with him… to show mercy. Merlin knelt on the cold floor and stared down at the keys lying in his trembling hand. Tears still rolled down his cheeks, leaving tracks in the grime and blood on his skin.

.+.

' _So all the atoms, being small bodies, are without qualities, and the emptiness is some place in which all these bodies, carried up and down through all eternity, either are entangled with each other somehow, or strike against each other and rebound and separate and again are compounded into each other in such unions-'_

Gaius stared down at _De elementis secundum Hippocratem_. The treatise's words, well known to him, now blurred before his eyes. Gaius' hand shook as he brushed his index finger over Galen's words. Suddenly, he found himself unable to breathe as a brutal, vicious force coiled around his chest. He raised his hand and rubbed it over his tired face. There were no tears. Gaius didn't think he could shed any more. They had dried up in such desperation and grief that the physician thought he might burst from it. If he could fall into that emptiness, he would welcome it.

He hadn't believed it. He could not. Not until he had seen the pyre built down in the courtyard. He knew it, deep in his heart, this was not how Merlin's story was supposed to end. Never had Gaius met such a bright, such a kind-hearted boy. Merlin had sacrificed so much, had suffered a lot, but never had he lost that wonderful smile of his. He did not deserve this. If only, Gaius could go and see him one last time. He doubted he could provide much solace, but he wanted nothing more than to be with his boy.

"No."

Gaius' voice echoed empty through the physician's chambers. He should not think this way. Merlin had escaped execution once before. When he had been trapped in Dragoon's body, the boy had got away from the pyre's cruel flame. Merlin could do so again. The boy _was_ resourceful. If anyone could escape the king's wrath, it would be Merlin. It must be.

"Gaius?"

The old physician looked up, not having noticed anyone enter. Sir Gwaine stood by the door. The knight lacked his characteristic grin and instead eyed Gaius with a solemn expression on his face.

"Sir Gwaine," the physician greeted. "Come in and close the door."

The knight checked the corridor, first left then right, before he entered and diligently closed the door shut. Gaius waved a hand at the chair across from his at the table.

"Did you see him?" he barely managed to ask around the lump in his throat.

"Yeah," Gwaine replied roughly.

The physician sagged a bit forward and had to steady himself against the table. He stared at the knight with wide eyes.

"The keys?"

Gwaine nodded. "He has them."

A shuddered breath escaped Gaius' lips before he whispered hoarsely, "A ray of hope at least."

The knight inclined his head again. There were dark rings under his eyes. They stood harshly against the pallor of his skin. Gwaine ran an erratic hand through his long hair while he numbly gazed at Gaius.

"He's…" the knight stuttered, voice thick. "At first, he didn't want to leave… Arthur."

Gaius bit the inner side of his cheek as a wave of sorrow washed over him. That pain was mirrored on Gwaine's face as he continued softly,

"He thought that Arthur would forgive him. He'd convinced himself that they were still friends…"

The physician nodded glumly. His heart clenched as he imagined Merlin in a cell, alone and realising that Arthur had truly forsaken him. An angry growl fell from Gwaine's lips and he let his face drop into his hands.

"Fuck!" the knight cursed. "Damn it all to hell!"

Normally, Gaius would've admonished him for that language. At this point, though, he was inclined to agree. Through his fingers, Gwaine peered at him and hissed,

"You didn't see him, Gaius. _Shit_! I told him. I told him of the pyre. He had no idea. And it bloody well _broke_ him."

Gaius folded his trembling hands and carefully placed them on Galen's book. He wished he could wrap his arms around Merlin instead and hold him close. If only he could drive away the boy's pain and heartbreak. Instead he was condemned to sit and wait. He felt disgustingly useless. Abruptly, Gwaine sat up again. There now was fury blazing in his brown eyes as he fumed through gritted teeth,

"He told me… Merlin told me about Agravaine. He was a fucking traitor. And Merlin tried to protect everyone. Always. Didn't he? Without Merlin that sorceress would've killed Arthur."

Gaius inclined his head, feeling his heart settle heavy in his chest. Gwaine released a colourful curse and slammed is fist on the table top.

"How?!" the knight growled. "How can Arthur treat Merlin this way? How can that bastard live with himself?!"

"Gwaine," the physician rebuked automatically. "He's still your king."

"No!" the knight snapped, vitriol dripping from his voice. "Such a man is no king of mine."

While Gaius could not conjure the hate that he saw raging in Sir Gwaine, he could, at the very least, understand it.

.+.


	5. Bloodhounds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello dear readers. Another chapter :) As always, enjoy. And a big thank you to everyone who commented and left me a kudos for this story. It's great to see you liked reading this fic so far. Hopefully you'll also like this new chapter.

Arthur gave a sharp nod as he passed a guard. The man bowed deep in greeting.

"My Lord."

His steps echoed on the stone floor as Arthur continued his way through the dark corridor. Sleep, it seemed, would not find him tonight and he awaited dawn with a heavy heart. In passing, he threw a glance out of one of the ornamented windows. The moon sat high and silent up in an ink black sky and washed the land below in a pale light. He could see the lower town as a dark mass, only here and there interrupted by torch fire. Tomorrow, things would end. It was the only way, the only sound decision he could make as king. May the fire cleanse the sorcerer off his sins.

Arthur felt sick and furtively rubbed a hand over his face. He would need to send word to Agravaine's castle in Norgales. Funerary rites had to be prepared as well. A soft sigh fell from Arthur's lips and he continued his restless prowl. The air was chilly and he pushed his hands in the pockets of his red coat. His fingers stung slightly as he bent them. The skin at his knuckles was still sore. That slight pain made anger flaring up in him once again.

How could he have been so stupid? So blind?

Arthur's temper spiralled up and he gritted his teeth to reign it in. Like a destructive wraith, golden eyes spooked through his mind. _Never_ had he expected evil to be so close to him. He had fallen for it yet again. Would he never learn? It had managed to gnaw its way back into his life so it may fester and destroy.

' _I mean no harm.'_

The sorcerer's words spun through his head like a curse. Arthur felt ashamed of himself to have allowed that creature so close to him. In the deepest recess of his mind, he could admit that he had started to embrace that man like a brother. It had all been a lie. A deception to gain his trust. He knew Guinevere still hoped that there was good, but Arthur knew not to hope. He had hoped with Morgana and that had cost him. At the thought, Arthur's chest squeezed.

"Father," he whispered softly. "You were right. And you paid for that with your life."

A shudder ran down his spine. He wished he could pull his sword and hack away from his enemies, but they all turned out to be spectres. They enjoyed toying with him and tried to break him. They knew how to wield their knives and cut him right where it hurt the most. Arthur gritted his teeth and angrily pushed those thoughts away. They wouldn't help.

He turned around a corner and entered another dim corridor. Arthur had taken but a few steps as, a bit further down, he saw a figure weakly leaned against the corridor wall. He stopped dead in his tracks. There stood a man who, taking in quick but shallow breaths, had his arm slung protectively around himself as if to shield an injury. Arthur narrowed his eyes in suspicion and stepped closer. His movement must've alerted the man. His whole body stiffened and he slowly raised his head.

Arthur already knew who it was.

Face bruised badly and skin sullied with blood, the sorcerer stared at him with wide eyes. A wave of fury washed over the king. How had the criminal escaped the dungeons? His hands clenched into angry fists. He should've run that creature through with his sword right in the throne room. What had stayed his hand, Arthur could no longer tell.

"A- Arthur."

Even the voice was pathetic. Arthur's blood was boiling and he took a threatening step forwards. Through gritted teeth, he fumed,

"Did you think you could escape justice, sorcerer?"

The man flinched under his sharp words and even shied a step away. Startled blue eyes stared at him and Arthur hated their familiarity. Hated that old concern tugging at him as his gaze wandered over dark bruises and dried blood. _Liar_.

"I said it before," the sorcerer whispered softly. "I'm sorry."

It sounded like he meant it and Arthur's rage spiralled up further as a traitorous twinge went through his chest. That was the pain of betrayal. Voice an angry hiss, he replied,

"You disgust me. You and your lies."

The filthy creature sucked in a shuddered breath of air and Arthur hated how suddenly those blue eyes glinted with tears. Another deception.

"I-" the sorcerer stuttered pathetically. "I don't know w- what to say. To make it b- better…"

Arthur crinkled his nose in revulsion and spat, "I'm tired of hearing you spew out your lies anyway."

The sorcerer shook his head, desperation carefully conjured on his face, and took a hesitant step towards Arthur. A tremble to his voice, he whispered,

"Please, give me a chance. I know you're disappointed with me. But you must know, I never used my magic against you. Agravaine was in league with Morga-"

"Shut up!" Arthur growled, words laced with frost. "I don't want to hear your lies any longer!"

The sorcerer flinched and nervously gnawed at his bottom lip. Even now he continued his disobedient act and, despite the order, opened his mouth,

"Arthur… I'm your _friend_. That was never a lie."

He didn't want to hear it. Arthur was boiling with rage. He would not talk with this creature any longer. Dark threat buried in his tone, he said,

"My father was right. Magic is an evil that has befallen my lands. You are living proof of that."

"No," the sorcerer replied, large blue eyes begging him. "You're wrong. Magic's not evil."

Arthur could no longer contain the fury wrenching at him. In two strides he had reached the sorcerer. With his left forearm, Arthur pushed him violently against the wall, forcing a painful gasp from those traitorous lips. His other hand flew to his dagger. The blade hissed from its sheath and in the next second, it was pressed against the sorcerer's throat.

.

The dagger's edge bit into his skin and Merlin felt a single drop of blood running down his neck. His thoughts swirled and tumbled into a mess. Arthur cruelly had him pinned against the stone wall and pressed a knife to this throat. Merlin's whole body had frozen over while his heart raced so fast as if it wanted to burst from his chest. Arthur's voice was as sharp as his knife,

"You are an abomination."

Merlin's eyes slid closed and only that blade against his skin existed, an extension of Arthur's hate. He took in a deep breath of air. The hate wouldn't leave, neither would the pain. Slowly, Merlin released the breath. It hurt. Arthur could do that and he didn't really need a blade. Merlin felt the tears build up in him. He didn't try to stop them as they slipped from underneath his eyelids. His magic was always with him. Arthur hated it. And Merlin _was_ magic. He now grabbed it and that hurt as well. Merlin's eyes snapped open and he felt them glowing with gold. Arthur's own eyes widened in shock.

"Ālyne, cyning!" Merlin ordered him.

(Let go, King!)

His magic sprang into action. It twisted around the king and pushed him away. Arthur lost his footing and he crashed to the floor while Merlin still stood where he had been pushed against the wall. Arthur was a trained warrior, though. It took him not even a second, to spring up into a crouch, dagger in his hand and fire burning in his eyes. Before the king could attack again, Merlin warningly raised his hand, the air around it flickering with his magic. Despite the dread coursing through him, Merlin banned all emotion from his voice and ordered coldly,

"Stop."

Eyes screaming murder, Arthur's gaze danced over Merlin's hand as if he held a blood-sullied sword.

"Finally," the king growled, grim smile in place. "Your true colours."

They were not, Merlin thought, but who would believe a liar? Slowly, he pushed away from the wall and he felt his broken ribs scraping against one another, burning in agony. His pain and despair would not show on his face. Merlin hid everything behind an unreadable, callous mask.

"I'm going to leave," he told the king evenly. "You can't stop me."

Arthur flashed his white teeth in a snarl and spat, "Don't think you'll get away with your misdeeds, sorcerer."

Merlin's stomach lurched, still his hand was steady as stone and his magic crackled in the air. Tone level, giving nothing away from the inner turmoil, he said,

"You're wrong, king."

Not _his_ anymore. Arthur's fingers tightened around the hilt of his dagger and revulsion dripped from his words as he promised, "You _will_ get your just punishment. I will make sure of that."

Merlin kept his hand raised, magic swirling around his fingers, and took a further step away from the wall. Never turning his back to Arthur, he carefully retreated down the corridor. The king's eyes flashed with his fury. Then he abruptly turned his head and yelled down the dark corridor,

"Guards!"

Merlin had to suppress a flinch as a surge of panic hit him. Not even a second later, he heard loud footsteps from the corridor. Arthur stood up from his crouched position. He glared at Merlin while his dagger glinted threateningly in the dim light of the corridor. That was the last image Merlin had of him. Then the warlock turned around and ran. Cruel pain shot through his left side and into his broken arm as he ran, but he couldn't stop. Not with the sounds of angry foot steps behind him.

His breath came fast as he raced down well-known paths, home to him for years. Now Camelot's long corridors felt like a trap. The men were hot on his heels and he could hear metal clinking, drawn swords that would hack him in two. A left turn and Merlin sprinted down another corridor. Despite the hour, a lone servant shuffled down the hallway. The man yelped, fright in his eyes, as he saw Merlin. The warlock ignored him and instead hastened into yet another corridor and burst through the door into a storage room. At the back of the room, there it was.

"Onirn," he hissed.

(Spring open.)

A hidden door in the storage room scraped open. Merlin didn't hesitate. His pursuers almost upon him, he entered the siege tunnels.

"Clȳs," he ordered and the door closed again.

(Close.)

His arm was slung around him as he ran on. His broken ribs sent pure agony through him every step he took. A sick feeling already tugged at the back of his throat and his head swam. But Merlin knew he had to push on, through the tunnels, the citadel, and away. Always away.

.+.

"He slipped into the lower town, your Majesty," Percival reported.

Curse on his lips, Arthur slammed his dagger down on the table. Of course, that slippery _witch_ would find a way to weasel out of this. Anger seething in him, Arthur glared down at his dagger. Then he ordered sharply,

"Search the town. Double the watch at the gates."

Percival seemed to struggle with something. "Sire…"

What the tall knight wanted to voice, Arthur could only guess. Sir Elyan stepped closer and there was worry in the man's face as well. Arthur gritted his teeth in his anger.

"What…" Elyan started shakily. "What are we supposed to do when we find Merlin?"

"What kind of question is that?!" Arthur snapped irately. "You throw him into the dungeons and then you report back to me."

Briefly, Elyan exchanged a look with Percival beside him. The question hovered in the air: ' _And what're_ _you_ _going to do with him?_ '. Arthur glowered at them darkly and neither knight decided to voice that question.

"Get going, then," Arthur ordered sharply.

They both gave him a bow, Percival mumbling, "At your command."

Then Elyan and Percival hastened to commence with the search. Arthur's angry gaze followed them as they left the room.

"Finding him won't be easy. The night is covering him."

Arthur turned to his first knight. Of course, Leon was right. The man threw Arthur a concerned look and it made him want to punch something. Leon seemed to be unsettled enough already, though, so he refrained. Instead, Arthur snarled,

"I don't care! I want him caught."

"Sire," Leon whispered gingerly.

He hesitated, obviously unsure whether to continue would be wise. In the end, always brave, Leon soldiered on, "Are you quite sure you want to do this? Merlin… he was close to you. Maybe showing mercy would b-"

"No!" Arthur snapped irately.

Leon didn't flinch and, if he wasn't completely mistaken, Arthur saw pity flutter over the man's otherwise controlled face. For the sorcerer or for his king? He sucked in a deep steadying breath of air. Raging at his knight would achieve nothing. Suddenly exhaustion washed over Arthur. He didn't even care anymore and just slumped into one of the chairs. For a moment, he let his face fall into his hands. Only Leon was witness to this weakness.

Merlin's pale face flashed through his mind. He had never seen it so cold, so devoid of emotion. A mask had fallen. Arthur straightened up again. His eyes sought out his first knight. The hot fury had dropped from him and his voice was soft, almost defeated sounding, as he said,

"You're right, Leon. Chances are we might not find him in the cover of the night."

Leon nodded swiftly. "It is pretty clear that he seeks to leave the city anyway, Sire. Whatever he was doing in Camelot, it's unlikely he would return."

Arthur sighed. A way out of this. He reached for his dagger. The blade's edge was interrupted by a rust-coloured spot. Blood. Arthur crinkled his nose and wiped the blood on his breeches. Then he carefully slipped the dagger back into the sheath at his belt.

"At first dawn's light," he told Leon evenly. "You will send out a team of trackers. If the sorcerer really flees the city, the men will find his trail. I don't care how or in what state, but I expect them to bring him back here."

Marginally, Leon's eyes widened at the order. He swallowed thickly, but then caught himself. He gave Arthur a swift bow and said briskly,

"At your command, my Lord."

.+.

Breathing going fast, Merlin sagged with his back against the rough bark of the oak. His whole body throbbed numbly, only interrupted by the sharp pain in his side and arm. He needed a break. For hours he had stumbled through the night's darkness. Now the rising sun timidly turned black to blue. Merlin had managed to get a few leagues between him and the City of Camelot. From where he sat at the edge of the forest, he could look down at the city. It had grown small and Merlin didn't know what to think of that. His heart clenched and he had to avert his gaze from Camelot. Gingerly, he readjusted his broken left arm and was instantly punished by sharp pain. A mirthless laugh left him, breathy and hollow.

What was he supposed to do now?

Numbly, Merlin stared down at the dark bruise on his forearm. Where could he go, now that he had ruined destiny? Camelot held no place for him anymore. Its king would rather see him dead than ever welcome him again. _'You disgust me,_ ' Arthur had said and he had meant it as well. Merlin had read it in his eyes. He sniffed softly, but didn't allow the tears to quell over again.

Where could he go? Back to Ealdor? He could already see his mother's disappointed face when he told her what had happened. And everyone else would be just _delighted_ to have the devil child back. His stomach knotted up at the thought alone. He couldn't face his mother and tell her he had failed King Arthur and had to live with her again, bringing nothing but grief and misfortune. He could call Kilgharrah instead and ask the dragon to carry him away. Only, Merlin could already see the same disappointment in those golden eyes. The Great Dragon would not forgive him. Merlin had singlehandedly destroyed all chances that magic would ever return to Camelot. The dragon would not look at him favourably anymore.

As if he wanted to punish himself, Merlin allowed his gaze to slip back to Camelot. One last time, he'd look at the beautiful castle. It stood proud, its white walls seemed almost welcoming. Merlin rubbed his hand over his eyes. As he blinked the tears away, he spotted a group of riders leaving the city in a hurry. He sat up a bit straighter. Merlin counted four mounted men. Smaller black figures dashed beside the horses. _Hounds_. A furrow creased Merlin's forehead as an uneasy feeling churned up in him. He could tell the men were no knights, lacking the bright red cloaks of Camelot's knights. Something about those men was off, though.

His magic bristled around him nervously and, hand holding his left side, Merlin inched a bit away from the tree. Calling up his magic somehow managed to make him even more dizzy. The force felt slippery and Merlin had to concentrate hard. Gnawing at his bottom lip, he threw his magic out. His eyes burned up. It stung as his magic sprang from him. Merlin's body was left behind and he followed the magic. It rushed through calm pastures, past a flock of sheep, and jumped over a little stream. By the time it had reached Camelot, Merlin's magic was stretched strangely thin and his head spun. Gritting his teeth, he hung on and finally reached that group of riders.

Four men, clothed in leather and rough fabric, sat on their mounts. There were grim looks on their faces as they spurred their horses. One of the men had a crossbow strapped over his back, another a bow. All of them, though, had a sword hanging from their belt. Dark hounds, huge beasts, ran beside them with a determined glint in their animalistic eyes. All the while, they were following the path that Merlin had taken away from the castle.

A swoop of fear cut through Merlin and his spell was broken. Forcefully, he crashed back into his body. He lost his balance and fell to his back, air whooshing from his lungs. His breathing was ragged with pain as he stared up at the awakening sky above him. Those men were hunters sent by their king. Merlin didn't have to wonder for even a second who exactly their prey would be.

Fear coiling around him, he scrambled up from the ground. Instantly, his broken ribs protested. Merlin gasped out in pain. Frantically, he reached for his magic once again. The force was sluggish to obey and this time sent a sting right through his head. Merlin pulled his broken arm against himself and trembled all over. His magic was still there, but only just. Slow and weak. He was hurting all over, injured, and hadn't really eaten in two days. Now his magic had curled up into a painful ball. In his current state, Merlin might be able to take down one, maybe two men. But four? Unlikely. His stomach knotted up and panic rushed over him as he thought of the dogs. He knew they were fast and strong. With his magic frayed like it was, would Merlin be able to take on four armed men and their hunting dogs?

Weakly, Merlin stumbled where he stood. He threw another fearful look to Camelot. The riders were still only small spots. With their horses, though, they would gain quickly. Hastily, Merlin turned on his heels and ran into the forest. His body protested, sending shooting pains through him. The warlock ignored the pain and the vertigo tugging at his mind and ran on.

.+.


	6. The Huntress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear readers. I'm sorry for the late update here. I'm currently stressing over trying to find a new flat. Why is that always such a struggle? I'm living in a large city and every flat costs a fortune. Ug. 
> 
> Anyway: New chapter! Enjoy. And thanks to everyone who gave me kudos on last chapter or commented! You guys are awesome. I love the feedback :)

Old oaks watched silently as Merlin made his panicked way through their realm. His boots whirled up old leaves, moss, and earth. He ordered his magic to sweep away his tracks. For some time, it obeyed. The longer Merlin ran, though, the harder it got to direct his magic. His steps grew more and more sluggish. With each step, his broken left arm was jostled and he felt sick. Soon, he could no longer bring his magic to mask his trail and he left staggering footprints and broken branches in his wake. Dizziness tugged at his thoughts and maybe he should just take a break. The moss looked soft and inviting. Merlin went on. The oaks were younger now, trunks thinner, and joined by beeches. Merlin stumbled and groaned in pain as he crashed to his knees. His vision blacked for a moment and his ribs wrenched at him in a surge of pain.

He went on, still, black dots dancing in his vision. By now the trees laughed at him. Merlin gasped in breaths. He pushed his magic out. It flared up, almost impossible to direct. It flowed and sloshed around. His eyes followed the magic. It didn't have to go far and the riders were already there. Thicker oaks watched as the men rushed by, their dogs by their sides. A spike of panic cut into Merlin. He blinked his eyes open and found himself lying on the forest floor. He swallowed thickly and his throat was so dry, it hurt. He pushed himself up into a standing position and the world spun faster around him.

Fear told him to run, but he could only stumble forward. The trees thinned out. There was a small footpath. Merlin followed and left the forest. The sky above was grey as he forced himself to move on. He thought he could hear dogs baying. It drove him on with a fearful chill. He had his path in front of him and still followed. Dimly, he saw that the oaks had abandoned him completely. They had been replaced by flat marshland. Another step and Merlin stumbled again. He squeezed his eyes shut and his thoughts wobbled and shifted. There were the dogs baying again and he heart thrums. Harsh against the ground, there were thrums. Hooves.

They were so close. Merlin heard a shout behind him and fear pushed him into running again. His heart hammering away in his chest, he dared to turn his head. Even without his magic, he could see the men now. They had spotted him and drove their horses on. Merlin stumbled on the path and almost fell. Panic rushed through him as he saw the riders gaining on him. If they got him, they would show no mercy, just like their king. Something whirred by his head. A few steps in front of Merlin, suddenly an arrow stuck in the path. He ran on while his body wanted to give out. A shout came from behind,

"Stop! Surrender."

Merlin yelled in shock as another bolt rammed into the earth, not even a meter beside him. He hastened on. The path wound on. Another bolt hit, closer. Much closer.

"Get him!" one of the trackers cried, clearly enjoying the hunt.

Like their hounds, they would rip Merlin apart. He threw another panicked look over his shoulder. Now the men were almost upon him. He could already see the whites in the horse's eyes. The hounds barked loudly and their sharp teeth waited for him. One of the men reloaded his crossbow. Another held a sleek bow in hand, arrow nocked and ready. This time, the man wouldn't miss. He was too close to miss. With a twang the arrow was released and it was true. In panic, Merlin, he cried out,

"Beorgan me."

(Spare me.)

His magic wobbled and barely obeyed. Still a weak shield sprang up around him and the arrow harmlessly bounced off of it.

"Curst sorcerer!" the tracker yelled in anger.

They were almost upon him and already pulled their swords. A huge hound snapped at his heels. Panic driving him, Merlin turned right and left his solid path. Without thinking, he raced into the marshlands. Already, he could feel the mud clinging to his boots. Further he went and the bog pulled at him. Behind him, Merlin heard horses whinny.

"No, stop," one of the trackers yelled at the others. "It'll suck down the horses."

More arrows crashed into Merlin's thin shield until it simply collapsed into itself. Unprotected, he went on. To the knees he now sank into the mud. This would be his grave if he went on further. Merlin threw a frantic look over his shoulder. The trackers had dismounted and followed him, swords drawn. The hounds and their lithe form already pounced into the marshes after Merlin. He stumbled and almost fell. With force, Merlin had to pull his left leg free from the bog. Now even the dogs struggled. But their sharp teeth wanted their prey after such a long hunt. Merlin's foot again got caught. They would rip him apart. Almost, he could feel the dog's hot breath on his neck. Their paws made sucking sounds in the bog.

_Please, please_ , Merlin thought as he frantically tried to move on.

His magic stirred. It wobbled and slipped. With a last effort, it gathered around Merlin's feet. He took his next step and suddenly the deep marsh grew solid where he set his feet. Merlin stumbled, his dizzy mind only catching on now. He took another step and the bog remained solid under his feet. Merlin threw another frantic look back. Just a meter away, one of the black dogs struggled through the deep bog determinedly. Normally, he wouldn't be able to escape a dog on foot. With the marshland solid only under his soles, though, Merlin turned away from his pursuers and ran.

The men's angry shouts followed him together with their hounds' disappointed baying.

Another arrow hissed by Merlin, his shield long gone, and he cried out in pain as it scraped his arm. Blood ran down his skin, but he didn't stop and never looked back again. His magic valiantly hung on as he stumbled through the marshland.

.+.

For hours and hours, Merlin went on. The marshland was vast and soon he had lost all sense of direction. His magic still flickered around Merlin's feet and stopped him from being sucked into the marshes. He felt drained, though, and his magic was weak. If it burst, he would sink into the bog and never come back. Shivering, Merlin wrapped his arms around himself to shield against the biting cold. He had nothing but his thin shirt and trousers and the merciless winter wind cut right into him.

He stumbled over a tuft of grass and almost lost his balance. Everything hurt and Merlin could barely think straight. Groaning in pain, he pulled his broken arm closer to his chest. He couldn't remember ever being so lost before in his life. If the men had brought him back to Camelot, would Arthur have just chopped his head off? Merlin's stomach constricted at the thought alone.

No. The king would've burned him instead. Taking off his head would be too merciful.

He sniffled softly as he walked on. With his next step, Merlin sunk a bit into the bog. His boot squelched as he pulled it free. _Damn it_. Searing hot, a jolt of panic rushed through him. The next step, he sunk in even deeper. Desperately, Merlin pulled at his magic. It weakly wobbled about and tried to twist around his feet, but then slipped. He just couldn't hold on anymore. Merlin stumbled again and this time he crashed to his hands and knees. The mud was ice cold on his skin and as it soaked into his trousers. A soft gasp left him as he finally lost his hold on his magic. Weakly, the force collapsed into itself. He squeezed his eyes shut and a wave of dizziness rushed over him. A harsh cough shook his frame and fierce pain cut right into his broken ribs.

Almost, Merlin wished that the pain would finally make him pass out. Then he just could stay here. Forever. He wasn't so lucky, though. World spinning around him, Merlin opened his eyes again. Why he even tried, he didn't know. Still, Merlin pushed himself up. This time as he continued his way through the marshes, he sunk in deep. With each step, he had to pull his leg free from the mud. Soon all thoughts left him. He couldn't think further than to the next agonizing step he had to take. A deep fog rose around him, but Merlin didn't even register that. Only his shivering got worse as the temperature dropped further.

Again, he pulled his leg free from the bog's pull. He couldn't go on much further. Breathing going fast with exertion and pain, Merlin looked up. In the fog, he saw dark, tall masses. His forehead furrowed in confusion. His hazy thoughts didn't catch up, but somehow, he still walked towards that apparition. As if something pulled him, Merlin was drawn to those dark figures in the fog. Step after excruciating step, he came closer. Then the fog parted and Merlin saw the nature of those dark masses.

Crooked with age, a stone circle marked this spot here in the middle of the marshlands. Moss and lichen had grown over the ancient stones as they stood like sentinels in the marsh. Merlin put a trembling hand on one of the stones. Deep magic thrummed within and he wondered who had erected the circle in this surreal stretch of land. Carefully, Merlin stepped into the stone circle. The ground was no more bog, but solid and grown over with grass and moss. Merlin was grateful as he could walk easily on the ground. He noticed that in the middle of the circle, almost grown over by the moss, lay a huge slab of stone. Standing on that slab, Merlin turned around himself and observed the smaller stones that circled around. Then he looked up into the grey sky. He wondered whom this circle had been built for. Maybe it had been long forgotten, but thick magic still coiled around the stones as they sucked it from the earth and pushed it up into the sky. Like a focal point, the stone circle pulled all magic from the surroundings to themselves and pushed it up in a steady flow. Merlin could feel the pull on his own magic, but at the moment the force was too weak to react.

"I haven't been here in a thousand years."

Merlin whirled around as he heard a voice. His heart skipped a panicked beat as he saw a woman standing right by one of the large stones. Magic was spun over her, around her, and pulsed with her very being. Merlin could barely breathe as he looked at her form. Ice cold fear wrenched at him as he felt that magic on his body. It whispered dark things to him as it prickled over his skin. It tugged at him and sliced over him. Like an upcoming storm, it could rear up and tear him apart. Never had Merlin felt such raw power. The woman watched him through expressionless eyes.

"Emrys," the woman intoned as if she enjoyed his name on her tongue.

She took a step towards Merlin and her magic increased even further. Merlin trembled all over as that terrible magic ripped at him and she laughed. There was only her magic, blazing over everything. Merlin glimpsed a bow, richly decorated, that was strapped to the woman's back. She wore a man's leather armour with strange symbols all over it. It was worn and nicked at places as if she had just stepped from a battle field.

"Why would you call me?"

Her magic filled everything. Merlin's body was painfully taut as he stood in the middle of the stone circle while her magic raged around him. Fear cruelly descended upon him as the woman reached the slab stone and stepped on it. Merlin flinched but couldn't pull his eyes away from her, neither could he move a muscle. Her hair was cut short like a man's. It didn't look unlike Arthur's in fact, but hers was as black as a raven's feather. She had such a face that he couldn't tell how old she was. Maybe thirty. Maybe forty. Maybe older. Much older.

"Why did you call me?" she asked again and this time a dangerous tint laced her voice.

Merlin stared at her, panic clouding his mind, and finally he knew who she truly was. Hastily, without thinking, he fell to his knees and bowed to her. His voice trembled as he whispered,

"I apologize. It wasn't my intention to call upon you."

She laughed again that terrible laugh and her fierce magic washed over Merlin's kneeling form. He barely dared to look up at her. The Goddess now stood just a step away from him and the pressure of her magic was unbearable.

"An accident?" she suggested, sharp edge to her voice. "I don't think so. Maybe it was _I_ who wanted to talk to you."

Her magic coiled around Merlin threateningly and his breathing hitched. With everything that had happened recently and his destiny broken, he suddenly knew why she would want to have words with him. He again bowed, forehead almost touching the stone, and, with the dark shadows of fear crawling all over him, Merlin whispered,

"I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for?" the Goddess asked, voice unreadable.

He flinched and replied shakily, "For failing you, my Lady. I m- messed up."

There was a pause in which the Goddess didn't reply. Merlin felt her heavy, unforgiving gaze on him, but never dared to look up at her. Shivers ran all over his body, as he stammered, panicked words gushing out,

"I tried my best and… it wasn't good enough. Nothing has changed. Albion isn't united. M- magic isn't free. It… it's my fault. Arth- The king will never listen to me again. All is lost because of me."

He felt more than saw as the Goddess stepped closer to him. The pressure of her magic increased on him and Merlin knew, if she wanted to, she could effortlessly rip him in two. There would be nothing he could do to stop her. Maybe he'd deserve it anyway. He squeezed his eyes shut, trembling all over, and awaited her verdict.

"The Once and Future King," she said, voice sharp as a knife. "is no longer willing to listen to you?"

Merlin flinched under her harsh question. His fear flowed into his voice and there was nothing he could do to hide it, not from _her_ ,

"He h- hates me. I made a stupid mistake and he threw me out. The king will never give audience to me again. P- please, forgive me."

There were fingers brushing over his hair and Merlin shuddered as her powerful magic bristled over him. Carefully, fearfully, he raised his face at her. The Goddess now stood right in front of him and ran her fingers through his hair. Merlin felt trapped in her gaze as her eyes, deep and unfathomable, cut into him.

"He did more than throw you out," the Goddess determined curtly.

Acutely, Merlin was aware of the bruises marring his face as her hard gaze wandered over him. He could still almost feel Arthur's hands on him, painful and punishing.

"He thinks I betrayed him," Merlin said, voice hushed. "T- that I'm a traitor. He won't allow me back."

Her fingers tightened into his hair and Merlin winced as suddenly anger twisted her face. The Goddess was terrible to behold in her fury and he felt his heart racing away in his chest. The sky mirrored her anger, now darkened by clouds. Thunder rumbled threateningly and soon rain pelted down on the land. In a circle around the Goddess the rain reverently left everything dry.

"I- I…" Merlin stammered, fear cutting through him. "I'm sorry."

His words were pathetic in face of her wrath. Her fingers left his hair and Merlin slumped where he knelt. Her voice was dark as the thunder in the air as she whispered,

"I am not angry at you, my child."

His eyes widened in surprise. "W- what? B- but I messed everything up."

The Goddess stood tall and the fury still raged behind her eyes, but now also a small smile curved her lips. A smile that seemed to be for Merlin alone, but he dared not hope.

"You did not," she said softly. Then the ire was back in her tone as she hissed, "It is not _you_ I am enraged over."

Merlin shuddered. The rain fell heavier around them, storm clouds rolling. The Goddess' eyes left him and she stared over her land, alive with her fury. Cold as ice, her voice explained,

"You were a present, Emrys. A present from me to the Once and Future King."

"A p- present?" he asked shily.

Her heavy gaze rested on him again and she said, "Yes. I bestowed upon that king a blessing few ever received. And what did he do with it?" Her jaw tightened in her anger. "He threw it back at my feet, broken and unappreciated. And I take offence."

Merlin swallowed thickly as he saw that fire burning in her, infused into her magic. The land around him, the air, and the rain, it roared with her anger. Her magic crackled around him in a vengeful storm and Merlin was immensely grateful that she kept the force away from him.

"I take _offence_ ," she hissed through her teeth. "A human defacing my creation?! How dare he? I will tear him down. I will ravage his lands until there is nothing but ashes and tears. There will be no hiding from my wrath. Not for him. He will regret that he ever insulted _me_."

Panic rushed through Merlin as he finally realised the target of her fury. _Arthur_. His hands balled into fists, nails biting into his palms. His lips trembled as he hastily whispered,

"Please, my Lady. Arthur doesn't know of the old ways. He meant no insult to you. He didn't."

Her dark eyes bored into him dangerously. "You defend his deeds?"

Trembling in fear, Merlin bent his head. "N- no, I… _Please_. He just doesn't know the old Gods. _You_. I apologize on his behalf, my Lady. Arthur is still a good king – good man – only ignorant in the old ways. Please, don't punish him."

The Goddess paused in her rage and her forehead crinkled slightly with mild surprise. "You would still protect him?"

Quickly, Merlin nodded. "Yes."

The Goddess scanned him, eyes glinting with curiosity. "And what, my child, would you offer to appease my temper?"

"Anything." Without thinking, Merlin opened his mouth and the words fell out, "Anything, my Lady. Take from me what you want. I don't have much to give, but it is yours."

She laughed, then. A sound so pure it made tears spring to his eyes. Merlin licked his chafed lips and said, "Take my magic, take whatever you want. J- just spare Arthur."

"Your magic?" the Goddess inquired, pensively. "You realize that would be like taking your life?"

"I do," Merlin replied, scared but firm.

She contemplated him through her mesmerising eyes. Then she raised her hand and again laid it on Merlin's head. Heavy, her touch rested on him, bristling with magic, and yet he felt the need to lean into it. After a moment of silence, the Goddess spoke up again. Her voice was soft and gentle as she told him,

"I would never take your essence from you, my child. The king, so misguided, so cruel, still means much to you. I can see that now. For you, only for you, Emrys, I shall spare him."

Sweet relief washed over Merlin, leaving him almost light-headed. A smile stretched his mouth and he didn't even care how that made the cut in his lip sting. Still beaming, he gushed,

"Thank you, my Lady. Thank you so much."

She nodded, amused by him, and pulled her hand back. Still, a warning note entered her voice as she replied, "I will spare him, but make no mistake, I will no longer hold my hand over him either. The king does no longer have my blessing. The present I have given, I now take back."

A confused frown appeared on Merlin's face. "M- my Lady?"

The Goddess arched an elegant eyebrow at him and replied severely, "You, Emrys, are no longer bound to him. You are free to do as you please. From this day forth, the king shall not have any hold over you anymore."

Magic was spun around her words and as she spoke them, the magic coiled around Merlin himself. He could feel the magic as it cut something in two. A soft gasp left him and a bond was severed. It pained him, but then her magic soothed over him, gently caressing that pain away.

With wide eyes Merlin blinked up at the Goddess, shock paralysing his whole being. The coin with two sides was no longer and he felt strangely alone. The Goddess sent him a soft smile. So many questions rushed through Merlin's head, but he found he couldn't voice any one of them. Something deep had just happened and he had no idea what ripples this would generate. The Goddess turned around and made to leave. Without thinking, Merlin pleaded,

"Wait."

The Goddess turned around to him again and eyed him expectantly. He could barely breathe and bowed deep to her. Voice meek, he whispered,

"I wanted to thank you, my Lady."

"What for?" came her voice.

"F- for listening to me," he stammered, blushing fiercely. "For forgiving me."

Even lower he bowed and this time he felt the rough stone against his forehead. His voice was no more than a whisper and he was sure she wouldn't hear him as he said,

"For not hurting me."

He gasped as there were hands on his shoulders, pulling him up. With wide eyes he looked at her. The Goddess crouched in front of him, so close that her magic blinded him.

"My child," she whispered. "I can be gentle and I can be vicious. But to you, never cruel."

She bent forward and Merlin's whole body stiffened as she placed a soft kiss on his forehead. Instantly, the pain left him. The pain from the bruises on his face, the broken ribs in his side, and the arrow wound, his broken arm, it left him. He could barely breathe as the Goddess stood up again. She had no further words for him. Merlin watched in stunned silence as she left the stone slab. In a few steps she reached the stone circle and as she passed the stones, her form simply disappeared. It was as if she had never been there at all. Suddenly, Merlin could feel the rain on his body. Her presence gone, she no longer shielded him and the cold rain drops ran down his skin.

For a long moment, Merlin just sat in the rain, in the middle of the stone circle. Her magic lingered and still danced over him. The dark clouds above him roiled and spat out icy water. It made him shudder. The cold crept into him and finally Merlin took in a sharp breath of air. With force, he pulled himself away from the Goddess' magic. His knees hurt as he finally stood up. Shivering with the old, he stumbled over to one of the huge stones. Old age had pushed it to the side, so that right beneath it was a dry spot that the cold rain would not reach. Merlin huddled against the ancient stone. With numb fingers, he pulled a few twigs from the heather around him and piled them up.

"Forbearnan," he whispered.

(Burn.)

Like his broken body, it seemed, his magic had been healed as well. It happily jumped to obey and instantly flames danced around the wood and Merlin sighed at the warmth they emanated. Exhaustion grasping at him, he leaned with his back against the stone and let the fire's warmth seep into his front. His fingers trembled slightly as he raised them to his face. Carefully, he prodded at his split lip. The stinging pain wasn't there anymore and the skin smoothed over. His bruises were gone. He ran a finger over his left forearm. The cruel pain there was gone as well and a small smile curled Merlin's lips.

"Thank you," he whispered as he tiredly closed his eyes.

With the ancient stones watching over him and her magic still filling the air, Merlin finally fell into a deep sleep where no nightmares could follow.

.+.

Arthur could find no sleep. He tossed and turned in his bed. The trackers had come back empty-handed. They had caught up with the sorcerer, but he had slipped away yet again. Arthur groaned and rolled on his side. He hated himself for that tiny twinge of relief as the trackers had relayed the news. Arthur should _not_ feel relieved that a sorcerer had escaped justice. Those golden eyes still haunted his thoughts, so abnormal and disgusting. He felt sick to the core when he thought how deep the depravity had twisted into his kingdom.

Abruptly, Arthur stood up from his bed. Rubbing a hand through his golden hair, he stepped over to the window. He opened it and let the night's cold air wash over his body. Arthur's eyes fell shut and he sucked in a deep breath. Then he leaned with his elbows on the sill and looked out the window. The moon was waning but still bright up in the dark sky.

_Why?_

The question still spooked through Arthur's head. Why had Merlin, of all people, studied magic? When had he started? How powerful was he? Arthur sucked in a deep breath of air as trepidation crept over him. He had allowed that sorcerer so close to his _wife_. If he had hurt Guinevere, that would've been Arthur's fault, because he once again had been too daft to see the danger right in front of him. Luckily, Guinevere was unhurt. Instead, the sorcerer had taken Agravaine's life.

With a shaking hand, Arthur closed the window again. Then he weakly sat on his bed. In all likelihood, Merlin probably wasn't a very powerful sorcerer. If he were, why would he have spent his time as Arthur's servant? No, Morgana had shown them all what a truly powerful magic-user would do with the power at their disposal. Anger cut through Arthur. Maybe this was also Morgana's doing. She had seduced Merlin with promises of power, because Merlin was close to the king. And Merlin had fallen for it. Now he was lost. Just like Morgana.

A knock at the door startled Arthur from his musings. He only now noticed how the first rays of a rising sun already shone through the window.

"Yes?"

The door was pushed open and in stepped Percival. There was a grave look on the other man's face and Arthur almost didn't want to know what had happened now.

"Percival," he said. "Is anything amiss?"

The knight shuffled a bit closer to Arthur. The king frowned as the tall man now offered him what seemed to be a carefully folded red cloth. Arthur stood up and accepted the fabric, confused frown on his face. Upon closer inspection, he realized it was a cloak of one of the Camelot's knights.

"What's the meaning of this?" Arthur asked, bewildered.

Percival sighed. Voice soft, the replied, "I was going to get in an early training session today, Sire. I wanted to ask Gwaine to join me." He stopped and his face crumbled and pain entered his tone as he continued, "I- I went to his chambers. And found them empty. Only his cloak was there."

"What…?"

Arthur stared down at the red cloak in his hands, apprehension bubbling up in him. Percival swallowed thickly. Then he whispered,

"He left."

.+.


	7. Destiny of Monsters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter! I hope you like it. It's a bit shorter, but it was the best place to split it up. Thank you all for commenting and leaving me kudos :)

Merlin threw his head back and yelled up into the sky, "O Draca, eom, ala, sece findan metan, teosu hus anbid!"

(Oh Dragon, like burning fire, I try to find and meet you. Don't keep one of your own kin suffering!)

The marshlands still surrounded him and by now thick fog had replaced the rain. Merlin shuddered involuntarily and pulled his thin jacket around himself. He felt agitation wash over him as he scanned the grey sky. He wouldn't be able to see the dragon coming. Visibility was too poor for it. Merlin wasn't sure he wanted to meet Kilgharrah, but he honestly didn't know how to get out of here otherwise. His fingers nervously ran over one of the slabs that made up the stone circle. The circle provided solid ground, but the moment Merlin stepped out of it, his legs would sink knee-deep into the bog.

He didn't have to wait long. Half an hour after his call, Merlin could hear deep thumps disturbing the marshes' silence. In regular intervals they rang through the fog, growing ever louder. Then a dark mass glided overhead and Merlin watched as the dragon gracefully landed. At least, it would've been graceful if he hadn't slipped in the mud. Kilgharrah's claws sank into the bog and the dragon released a disgusted hiss. His tail whipped around in displeasure and he pulled one claw from the mud, shaking it slightly. He only managed to have the other three sink even deeper. Kilgharrah looked at the mud clinging to his sharp talons with a disapproving frown. Then he glowered at Merlin as if it was his fault. In a way, it kind of was. Merlin couldn't help that grin from curling his mouth.

"Young warlock," Kilgharrah said in his deep voice. "You called me?"

… _and I really wish you hadn't_ , went unsaid. Merlin couldn't help but chuckle at the dragon's expense. Golden eyes narrowed at him and he tried to pull a serious face at him.

"Yeah," Merlin cleared his throat. "I kinda did. I'm… you know, a little lost here."

The Great Dragon rolled his eyes. Thick sarcasm in his voice, he supplied, "That doesn't sound like you at all."

Merlin rolled his eyes and sassed right back, "Before you start, it's really not my fault."

"I'm sure it's not," came the dry reply.

Then Kilgharrah looked around. Sure enough, his gaze became stuck on the stone circle. Merlin couldn't really claim surprise as he saw that suspicious glint burning up in the dragon's golden eyes. Kilgharrah turned his heavy gaze back to Merlin.

"You're quite a bit away from the citadel," the dragon noted dubiously. "Pray tell, what are you doing here?"

Merlin couldn't help but fidget nervously. He reached for one of the huge stones and let his fingers run over the rough surface. Magic bristled under his touch.

"Er…" Merlin mumbled. "As I said. I got lost?"

"Is that so?" Kilgharrah hummed. "You called me to do what exactly? Bring you back to the citadel?"

The warlock couldn't meet the dragon's eyes. He plucked a piece of lichen off the stone. His voice barely more than a whisper, he said,

"How about… you bring me to Mercia instead? That… that would be helpful. Or just, you know… _away_ from Camelot would be great."

The suspicion burned up and Kilgharrah drew closer to Merlin. His large head was in front of him and golden eyes pierced right into him. Kilgharrah sniffed him and even pushed with his snout against him. Tightly, the dragon inquired,

"What did you do?"

Merlin pushed the snout away from him. He turned his head, not looking at the dragon, and said, "Nothing."

"A likely story."

Through the corners of his eyes, Merlin peered at Kilgharrah. At least the dragon had moved a bit away again. Not by much, though. He still eyed Merlin demandingly. The warlock threw his arms up in exasperation.

"Fine!" he cried. "But it is _not my fault_."

"Tell me," the dragon ordered sternly.

In his frustration Merlin started to pace to and fro as the events of the last three days rushed through his head.

"Okay, so, it started with that crazy sorceress attacking Arthur," Merlin jumped into his explanation.

From then the words just gushed from him. The more he talked, the more his agitation was mirrored in the dragon's demeanour as well. Merlin raked his fingers through his black hair and stared up at Kilgharrah.

"They were trying to shoot me. I mean, _Arthur's_ men seriously tried to _shoot_ me." He gesticulated wildly. "So, I didn't have much of a choice, I ran into the marshes. They didn't follow. But I stumbled upon _this_ , then."

Merlin threw a thumb at the circle of stones behind him. He arched a questioning eyebrow at Kilgharrah. "You don't know what it is, per chance?"

"I do," the dragon rumbled. "A place of prayer built a long time ago."

"…for the Triple Goddess?" Merlin asked carefully.

Kilgharrah nodded, gaze wandering over Merlin searchingly. "Indeed. It was used by the High Priestesses to converse with the Goddess."

Merlin groaned and ripped at his hair. "Of course it is." Sarcasm entered his voice, "And _of course_ , I need to stumble right into it. I mean, these marshes are _so_ small, right? It's basically _impossible_ to miss it."

The warlock sat down on the grass beside one of the stones and glowered in front of him. He could basically feel Kilgharrah's gaze boring holes into the side of his face. Merlin hid his face in his hands, trepidation building up. Through his fingers, he mumbled,

"So… you remember that ancient prophecy? The one with Emrys and the Once and Future King?"

"Yes…?" the dragon said, already suspicion to his tone.

"Yeah. So…" Merlin breathed in deeply. "I might've had a talk with the Triple Goddess. And she, kind of… er… rescinded that prophecy?"

No reply. Merlin could feel his heart racing in his chest. Carefully, he peered at the dragon through his fingers. Kilgharrah's body was frozen over and he stared at Merlin with wide golden eyes. He had never seen that look of shock on the dragon's face. _Nice_ , Merlin sighed. _Now I've broken a dragon_.

"What…?!" Kilgharrah hissed tonelessly.

Merlin's hands slipped from his face and he peered up at the dragon. A bit helplessly, he scratched the back of his head.

"I don't know what else to tell you," he mumbled. "She said I'm no longer bound to Arthur. Then she just left."

He shrugged and blinked up at the dragon, feeling lost. A fire started to burn in the dragon's eyes and his voice was a low hiss as he demanded to know,

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I…" Merlin gulped, trepidation washing over him. "Er… Arthur doesn't have her… erm… blessing anymore, is what she said."

A deep growl rumbled form the dragon, angry and dangerous. His eyes pierced into Merlin and he bit out lethally, "You mean to tell me that the prophecy is gone? She took it back?!"

"Erm." Merlin nervously twisted his hands. "Yes."

The dragon threw his head back and _roared_. Merlin flinched as Kilgharrah released a surge of flames that raged up into the sky. He put his arm up to shield his eyes from the immense heat. An animalistic growl ripped from Kilgharrah's throat. He took a step forwards and swiped down a claw at Merlin. The warlock yelped as he soon found himself on his back while the dragon's sharp talons imprisoned his body. Murderous look on his face, the dragon bent down to him. Merlin gulped as Kilgharrah flashed his sharp teeth in a snarl,

"You destroyed the prophecy?!"

Merlin had frozen over and stared at the furious dragon. Gingerly, he tried to reach him, "I wasn't trying to. The Goddess just decided she would. She didn't _ask_ me or anything."

The claws tightened around him and Merlin nervously eyed their sharp edges. Kilgharrah growled furiously, "Do you even understand what this means?! All is lost! Magic is lost forever! And that is your fault!"

"I- I-"

Merlin looked at the dragon's fury and he didn't know what to say. Kilgharrah was right. It _was_ his fault. He had been too careless. Merlin had been foolish and had allowed Arthur to see his magic. If only he'd displayed a bit more stealth, all of this could've been avoided. Merlin pressed his lips into a thin line as guilt harshly coiled around him.

"I know," he said quietly.

He turned his head to the side, no longer wanting to see the disappointment in the dragon. Kilgharrah released another irate growl. Then Merlin felt himself being released. The dragon took a step back from the warlock. Merlin sat up and carefully scanned the dragon. Fury still twisted his face and Merlin could feel the irate magic emanating from him.

"Kilgharrah?" he whispered. "I know I messed up. I _do_. I wanted to talk with Arthur after he found out about my magic, but… he didn't listen. Agravaine had just died and Arthur was so angry with me. Then he threw me in the dungeons. So I fled Camelot. Maybe if I'd stayed, I would've found a chance to talk with him." He knew he was rambling now. A harsh laugh left Merlin. "Then again, maybe Arthur would've just broken my other arm as well. Sooner or later, he'd have calmed down again, though. Right? And then I cou-"

"What are you talking about?" Kilgharrah cut over him.

Merlin stiffened and looked up at the dragon. Golden eyes once again burned into him and Merlin shifted nervously.

"I just," he whispered. "I wasn't sure I could convince Arthur to talk with me. That's why I fl-"

"No," the dragon interrupted him again. "What do you mean the king broke your arm?"

"Oh." Merlin's hand subconsciously rubbed over his left forearm. "I told you, he was angry when he saw me performing magic and… after I killed Agravaine..."

"Yes," Kilgharrah said, eyes narrowing in suspicion. "He was angry because you killed the traitor and he threw you in the dungeons. Did he do anything else?"

Merlin shifted uncomfortably. Earlier, he had glossed over the events that took place in the throne room right after Merlin had attacked Agravaine. It wasn't something he liked to think about.

"Merlin?" Kilgharrah prodded.

Reluctantly, the warlock looked up at the dragon. The anger hadn't completely left the dragon's face as he eyed Merlin searchingly.

"What did Arthur do to you?"

Merlin took in a sharp breath of air. He could feel tears welling up and quickly bent his head. Kilgharrah didn't push him again and Merlin rubbed suddenly sweaty palms over his trousers. He still didn't know how to handle this.

"He attacked me," Merlin whispered, still not meeting the dragon's eyes. "He said I was evil and that I betrayed him. I didn't think he would… attack me."

Merlin pulled his knees up to his chest, draping his arms around his legs, and laid his forehead on them. He felt pathetic as tears brimmed over and he curled up even tighter.

"They threw me in the dungeons. I must've passed out for some time. I don't remember much. Gwaine snuck down to see me. And he…"

Merlin pressed his eyes tightly shut. More tears rolled down his cheeks and he felt ashamed. He really needed to get a grip on himself.

"Gwaine?" Kilgharrah asked, voice strangely soft.

"He told me-" Merlin's throat suddenly felt raw. "And then I saw for myself. There was a pyre in the court yard. It was for me."

The dragon didn't reply, though Merlin could hear him shuffling closer to him. He swallowed around the lump in his throat and slowly raised his head. He knew his tears still shamefully glistened on his cheeks. Kilgharrah's golden eyes gazed down at him.

"I was scared," Merlin had to admit. "Not of the fire, but that Arthur…"

His fingers tightened around the fabric of his trousers. Thankfully, Kilgharrah didn't interrupt him because Merlin wasn't sure he'd be able to continue otherwise.

"It's not just the prophecy," he said, desperation wrapped around his voice. "It's _Arthur_. He… hurt me."

Kilgharrah's eyes burned with a new wave of rage. Merlin still didn't flinch away as the dragon stepped closer. Surprisingly gingerly for something of the dragon's size, Kilgharrah curled his huge body around Merlin's form. Carefully, the dragon avoided the stones from the circle and raised one of his wings as if to shield Merlin from the world. The warlock sagged back against the dragon's side. The thick scales were warm against him, driving away the cold that had chilled Merlin to the bone. Kilgharrah protectively pulled one of his claws towards Merlin.

"What do you want to do now?" the dragon's deep voice eventually spoke up again.

Merlin blinked his eye open again. He reached out and ran his fingers over the hard scales at the dragon's claw. A soft laugh fell from his lips.

"That's the first time you ask me that. Don't you have a cryptic suggestion I need to unravel?"

A deep chuckle rumbled through the dragon. "Not at this point, young warlock."

A small grin curled Merlin's lips. He let his head sag back against the dragon. He was so tired. He didn't want to think about kings, angry Goddesses, and destinies anymore.

"Can you take me away?" he asked the dragon. "Far away. Somewhere where I'm not a monster."

.+.


End file.
